Claire
by Sara Remly
Summary: This story begins where the last book The Romulan War: Beneath the Raptor's Wings left off. About one year later April 2157, the crew is back aboard Enterprise. Trip has a hard time dealing with past events. They must rescue a Romulan prisoner.
1. Chapter 1

1

Soltarian System, Planet Damar IV.

9 April, 2157

The morning sun shone through the windows, gently waking her from her restful dreamy state. Another beautiful day but she just could not bring herself to move and get out of bed, not just yet. She was still stiff and sore but seemed to be feeling a little better than yesterday. She let out a long sigh and took a mental inventory. Her mood seemed to be better much to her relief. She didn't feel bright and chipper but she rarely felt that way anyway, atleast not until she had her morning dose of caffeine. She felt better though and that was all she could hope for.

_Maybe today will be a good day after all. God knows I deserve it. _

Her computer started to chime in the next room._ Who could be calling at this hour? It was probably Matix_, she thought.

His work ethic amazed her to no end. He was always first to arrive at the shop, always eager to make a sale. Matix was her employee in a small shop that she owned down in the village. He was more than an employee she thought with a slight smile crossing her face. He was her best friend and closest confidant. He knew her more than anyone. It seemed that most people never really bothered to get to know her. She knew the reason was mostly due to her tendency to not allow people to get too close, become too friendly. It wasn't that she didn't have friends or relationships, she preferred not to allow too people to see who she really was. It always seemed to end badly when she did.

"Ah, another subject to bring up with doc." She said aloud, teasing herself, knowing she would make some physiatrist very rich if she decided to become a patient.

Her relationship with Matix was different. He never pushed or seemed to want anything from her. He was just there, always willing to listen. It seems silly to think of him as a good listener because he could cut you down to size in a heartbeat with that sharp blue tongue of his. He was well intentioned though and it was truly a joy to banter back and forth with Matix on a daily basis.

Best of all, Matix was a great engineer. The best she had ever seen. Well, except for her of course and maybe one other person but no need to go down that memory lane. She forced her thoughts to focus back on Matix. He was talented and could fix anything. Not just fix it, he could make anything run better than the designers intended it to. He could work on everything from a replicator, to a desert runner, to the largest battle cruiser. Even better, he was a great salesman. Always out to make a buck. This is why she made him her partner in the shop. Not 50/50 ofcourse, it was her shop after all. No, she gave him 20%. No need to go crazy and give everything away.

The computer continued to chime so she reluctantly pulled herself out of bed, with the full intention of giving Matix a piece of her mind for calling at this hour. She threw on her robe and plodded down the hall to her office. She dropped down into her desk chair with the little body weight she had. Her back immediately retaliated by sending a sharp stabbing pain up her spine. She let out a little screech of pain. Without looking she pushed her computer's pickup button and reached over to open the blinds that covered the window next to her desk. She wanted to see the second sun light up the valley, which her house overlooked. It truly was shaping up to be a beautiful day in Cynthian.

"Matix, I swear the shop better have burnt down for you to be calling me this early in the morning." She said with all the irritation she could summon but still enjoying the wonderful view outside.

"Good Morning, Claire." A voice came out of the computer and echoed in her ears.

Claire slowly turned her head towards the computer monitor.

It wasn't Matix' face staring back at her. It was Simmons, her supervisor of sorts with Section 31.

"What do you want?" She finally blurted out, knowing her day had just turned to crap.

"Well, Good Morning to you too. Aren't we a little ray of sunshine in the morning? Didn't get enough beauty sleep, I see."

"I'm sorry Simmons, you must not have heard me. What do you want?"

She and Agent Simmons never got along. She first met him when she was recruited by the Section just over 15 years ago. She thought of him as an arrogant bastard that didn't have what it takes to work out in the field. He on the other hand, thought she was a far too unpredictable for this type of work plus, she obviously hated authority. He was still at a loss at understanding why the Section decided to recruit her. He clearly saw that she was only going to be trouble even as a young cadet at the Academy. Her latest screw-up only proved it.

"Well, I see we shall get down to business first thing then. You are being re-assigned."

Claire's heart sank to the floor as he said the word, _re-assigned_.

"What are you talking about? I have had enough of your crap for one morning." She wanted to sound indifferent but she doubted that she pulled it off. He got her attention if nothing else.

"The Section has decided that after your last mission, you should be assigned to a more controlled environment." He spoke slowly and with a smug attitude. She wanted to reach in and strangle his fat sweaty neck. But then what would the doc say about that? Instead she attempted to remain calm.

_Breath…, big deep breaths_, she thought to herself, although she felt her heart pounding away in her chest.

"A mission, is that what they call it? She spat at him. Her jaws clenched tight.

"Yes, a mission, what else could we call it? A mission you failed, I might add." He said in a calm and cold voice. She knew full well that he loved every minute of this little conversation.

"I would call it a desertion, a desertion on the part of the Section. Ya'll knew that I was rotting away in that hell hole and yet you did nothing!" She yelled with a slight Southern accent. It always came out when she was mad and yelled. She couldn't control her anger anymore. It was on full display. Every cell in her body was fully charged. She felt every beat of her heart now.

"Are you sure we did nothing, Claire?" He was still as calm and cool as an iceberg.

"What 'a ya fucking talking about! I was beaten everyday! I was almost killed you fat asshole! The Section did nothing!" She shouted at the screen, but as suddenly as the anger rose it dropped back down as her mind drifted to the one person that did help her.

"Thank God for Peter." She said it so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

"Yes, it was a fortunate event that Peter was able to rescue you from your predicament."

Snapping back to the current moment, she glared at him and in a cold voice, "Don't you ever say his name to me again. You know nothing about Peter."

"So you say. Anyway, let's get back to the business at hand shall we?" Without waiting for a reply he continued. "As I said, the Section feels that while you are in this vulnerable state of mind that it would be best for you to work in a less stressful environment."

"You said that already. The Section doesn't give a shit about my state of mind, so what is the real story? We both know that agents aren't given the option of leaving."

"Well, this is a special situation. The Sections feels that you are too great of a risk at this point. So as of today, we no longer have a need for your services. Not to worry though, we hope that this is only a temporary assignment. When you are feeling better we will be glad to work with you again." She couldn't believe it but this idiot was actually smiling at her.

"Is this a re-assignment or a test to see if I might just go off the deep end completely?" Though truthfully, she wondered the later to herself every day.

"Well we certainly can't have you going rouge on us now can we?" Simmons answered, trying unsuccessfully to empathize or atleast sound like he cared.

_The sooner she was gone the better for him_, he thought.

"Fine, where am I being re-assigned?" She said, sounding defeated.

"You are being re-assigned back to Starfleet but don't worry, you have been promoted." He said, sounding smug again.

"Starfleet? Promoted? What are you talking about you crazy bastard." Her heart was racing again. She suddenly felt the need to crawl back in bed and pull the covers over her head.

"Yes, Commander." The smugness was now spewing out of his pores. He loved this. "We couldn't send you back to Starfleet as an ensign, now could we? You are entirely too old for that."

"That was very thoughtful of you." She said, choosing to ignore the age reference. All the fight in her was now gone.

"Oh, one more exciting piece of news." He said, with a slight devil smile. "You are being assigned to the _U.S.S._ _Enterprise_."


	2. Chapter 2

2

"_Enterprise_? What am I suppose to do on _Enterprise_?" She was completely in shock. This had to be a bad dream. Any minute she would wake up and this whole nightmare of a conversation would be gone. Vanished. She would laugh at herself for making up such a crazy dream.

His words slamming her back to reality, "The Section has allowed Starfleet to use you in whatever capacity they see fit. I would assume you would work as some sort of reconnaissance officer, maybe an SI agent onboard. Similar to the work you do now. The Section has also agreed to let you keep your aircraft. I am sure it will come in vary handy on your new assignment. Captain Archer will no doubt be very pleased to add it to his array of weapon systems." He was now growing board with this conversation. He had taken great joy in seeing her reaction to the news but now the fun was over and he had work to do.

"Am I supposed to maintain some sort of cover?" She asked, wondering if the Section was cutting her off completely.

"That won't be necessary. The _Enterprise _is scheduled to be in your system next week. They are expecting you. I am sure you can manage to link up with them and report for duty. Good bye Claire." With that, the computer screen went bank. Simmons' face disappeared.

The bastard hung up on her. Not that it mattered, she was in such shock she couldn't think of anything else to say. She just sat there, completely deflated, starring at the blank screen. Her mind ran away as she was consumed with the news and the finality of it all. _I was just fired! Starfleet, are they kidding me? Enterprise? A reconnaissance officer? I 'm an engineer! Well crap, there goes my benefits. Bastards! Now what am I going to do? _

_Oh, this is not good. _ She thought to herself as she finally stood up from her desk chair. Her knees were numb and felt like they were going to buckle. She felt completely upside down, not knowing what she was going to do. Then like cold ice water being thrown in her face she remembered his words, _"…next week. They are expecting you…"_

She walked out of her office and into the main center of her home. Both suns sun shone through all the windows now. Her small but spacious house was aglow with warm sun light. This was her favorite part of the day.

_I need some tea first, then a shower. I always think better in the shower._ She went into the kitchen and fixed herself some toast and some very strong, black tea. She needed to recharge her brain. As she sat at her kitchen counter, she considered taking her morning run but decided against it. After getting dressed she would go to the shop and tell Matix what the hell was happening.

As she stepped out of the shower, she realized that her thoughts seemed to be clearer. She resolved to face this problem head on and not let it crush her the way recent events had. She wasn't about to let the Section ruin her life entirely. _Maybe this is a way out, _she considered.

She took out a fresh set of work clothes. Brown slacks and a darker brown shirt. She placed them on her bed and went to comb her wet hair. She twisted her long blond hair into a bun and pinned it at the nap of her neck. She dressed, put on her comfortable leather work boots, brushing sand off of them from the day before. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face seemed older, tired but her overall look was professional and yet not completely unwelcoming_. I have to put on a happy face for customer, _she tried to remind herself.

The brown color of her shirt complimented her fare skin. She smoothed a loose strand of hair then reached into her bedside table. Inside was her trusty N-45A phase pistol. She performed a quick functions check and secured it into its holster which she belted around her waist. This was the favorite of all her weapons. It was light, sat perfectly at the small of her back and yet had enough power to take down a full grown phalix bull. Next, she reached down and secured her century blade to her right calf. The blade always reminded her of Peter. He had given it to her as a birthday gift almost two years ago. At the thought of him, she swallowed hard trying to hold back tears. She couldn't believe that it had only been three earth weeks since she lost him. It seemed like months had passed, time moved painfully slow these days.

She walked through her living area and to the front door. She grabbed her bag and lightweight cloak off a chair. She made a mental note to take her other weapons to her shop so that she could clean them properly. She wasn't about to join _Enterprise_ unprepared or unequipped.

"…_next week. They are expecting you…" _the words rang in her ears. She walked out the door, locking it behind her. Looking onto the horizon of Damar IV, she saw sand clouds begin to form. She stopped and wrapped her cloak around her shoulders, pulling the hood down over her face. Not so much to protect herself from the harsh suns and the approaching sand storm but to hide the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks.


	3. Chapter 3

3

_U.S.S. Enterprise_

"Sir, you have an incoming classified transmission from Starfleet," Lieutenant Hoshi announced across the bridge to her captain.

"Send it to my ready room Hoshi," Captain Jonathan Archer stood from his chair on the bridge and walked towards his ready room wondering what could be all that important that Starfleet needed to send a classified message. He wasn't expecting enemy contact for another few weeks.

_There was a time when our mission was exploration, not combat, _words he had thought to himself many times. He never regretted his career choice but he did not sign up to be a combat hardened Starfleet officer. He wanted to be an explorer, _…seek out new life…_and all that, but here he was, readying his ship for yet another battle.

This time Enterprise was heading towards Romulan space. Starfleet Command had been secretive regarding this mission. _Maybe I am finally going to be told what we are walking into,_ Archer thought as he walked through the door of his ready room.

It wasn't as though he was upset about Enterprise's current travel plans. Heck, so far it's almost been a Sunday drive. Things have been very quiet. For once, there have been no unexpected run-ins with violent alien species. It was a nice change of pace and his crew needed the break. Morale was high. He knew that this was not a result of his expert leadership, he thought sarcastically to himself. No, the real reason emotions were running high was due to having key members of his staff back onboard.

He sat down at his desk, pulled his water polo ball down off the self and began bouncing it off the inner hull. He liked doing this, it relaxed him. As he waited for the Starfleet transmission to queue up, he thought of his crew.

Hoshi Sato, his ever loyal communications officer had stuck by his side even though she obviously had doubts regarding some recent decisions he was forced make. It had been very difficult for Hoshi to adjust to life in outer space. Archer smiled remembering the time when Hoshi came to him requesting new quarters because she was having trouble sleeping. She felt the stars were going in the wrong direction and wanted to switch to quarters on port side. She seemed so young then. She has since grown into a confident and extremely bright officer. He was very proud of the work she had done for him.

Lieutenant Travis Maryweather was also back onboard. He seemed to easily slip back into his position as the alpha-shift helmsman. Archer felt that in a way, Travis was a son who had gone out on his own looking to find his path in life but realized that home was where he needed to be. It had not been an easy journey of self discovery for Travis. Archer knew this. He also knew that the reason Travis left was because he had lost respect for his Captain and questioned the decisions he made regarding the _Kobayashi Maru_.

Archer didn't blame Travis for doubting him. Hell, he doubted himself most days. The exact moment he made the choice to leave the _Kobayashi Maru's_ crew to die will forever be burned into the back of his brain. Those events, those few seconds in time, re-play in his head every single day. In the beginning, he searched for ways to justify his actions to himself. He told himself a million times that if he hadn't left, _Enterprise _would have most certainly been compromised. The risk was too high. He knew he made the correct decision given the information that he had at the time. Still, he couldn't help wondering if maybe there was an alternative solution, one that he didn't see.

Archer had to admit he was surprised when he received Travis' request to rejoin the crew of _Enterprise_. Archer had kept track of Travis during his odyssey. Just like a protective parent, Archer kept watch over his young helmsman but trying not to interfere. It killed him to hear of Travis' struggles on the _Discovery_ and the _Yorktown_. He felt a sense of responsibility to Travis, to help him to grow past what happened with the _Kobayashi Maru_. He did not want the decisions that he made effect people's perception of Travis. But seeing Travis struggle so, it was hard to sit back and do nothing. He knew Travis would never ask for his assistance, he was too proud for that. That is why Archer quietly but forcefully pushed to have Travis assigned to the _Atlantis_. Captain Weiss was a good officer. Archer knew that he would treat Travis fairly. Unfortunately, things didn't work out aboard _Atlantis_ as Archer had hoped. It was compromised by the Romulans and Captain Weiss was forced to destroy his own ship. Thankfully, the crew survived. Not soon after, Archer was informed by Starfleet that Travis' had submitted a request for transfer to _Enterprise_. Archer knew that Travis was still fighting his inner demons but he was back home now and that's all that mattered.

Archer's monitor screen crackled to life, bringing him back to the present. He returned the ball to its spot on the shelf and said hello to Admiral Gardner. "Sir, are you calling to tell me what the hell we are doing out here? We can't help but notice that the course you gave us takes us to Beta Quadrant. Is it safe to assume our next mission has something to do with the Romulans? I won't say that I am looking forward to another run-in with them."

"I can't get one past you Jonathan," said Admiral Gardner through a somewhat grainy picture.

"Then what's with the whole classified transmission? I hate these things, the overlapping blocking frequencies makes you look like you are in the middle of a sand storm. You would think Starfleet would come up with a better method by now," Archer grumbled. His mood was beginning to turn. Dealing with the Romulans always had that effect on him.

"Starfleet was given a tasking from Section 31." Gardner didn't even attempt to sugar coat the issue.

Archer almost fell out of his chair. "Please, tell me you are kidding. It's bad enough that we are out here practically at the Romulan's back door and now you are telling me Starfleet is taking orders from the Section." Archer rolled his eyes and pushed himself away from his desk.

"We don't take orders from them and you know that!" Gardner liked Archer but sometimes he could be very short sighted about things. He knew this would eventually be a problem for Archer if he intended to ever be promoted past Captain.

"Then what am I doing out here, I also noticed that we don't have any backup. I feel somewhat exposed." Archer leaned forward into his monitor.

"We are doing them a favor of sorts." Gardner tried to explain.

"Oh, now I know you are kidding me – a favor?" Archer was growing more sarcastic by the minute.

"Jon, you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. You think I am happy about this arrangement? You know just as well as I do that these types of deals are made way above either of our pay grades. It is not for us to question their reasoning. We all have our missions to do. I would think by now you would understand that." Gardner had just about enough of this back talk from a junior officer. If it was anyone other than Archer, he would relieve them on the spot.

"Fine, since we came all this way we might as well make ourselves useful," Archer put his face within inches of the screen. "They better not be screwing with us and I want all the background information on this thing – all of it."

"I have already relayed that to them. I know they have a tendency to only give as much information as they feel is needed."

"There's an understatement," Archer said with a look of suspicion. "What do they want us to do?"

"It seems that they have allowed themselves to be put in a somewhat difficult situation. One of their agents has been taken captive by the Romulans. They suspect that because this agent was not killed outright that perhaps he is working for them, a double agent. Either way, the Section wants him back. Preferably alive but that is not a requirement of the mission," Gardner explained.

"If they know he is alive, they must have someone on the inside, why don't they get him out themselves? Why send us? It's not like the Romulans won't notice us out here, flying around in their backyard. Seems to me a covert rescue operation would be a better choice than a full out frontal assault," Archer's thoughts were spinning in his head, this story made no sense. Something wasn't adding up.

"Your presence outside of Beta Quadrant will most likely be viewed by the Romulans as a simple observation mission. That is as long as you stay on this side of the boarder. Obviously, we couldn't provide you with a fleet of ships because we didn't want them to think we were building up positions in order to stage an attack. We wanted you to look as least threatening as possible."

"We don't look threatening to the Romulans because we aren't! How am I supposed to defend myself if they decide that they don't appreciate us looking in their windows? I say let the Section figure this one out. They allowed one of theirs to be taken, let them clean it up." Archer was tired, the last thing he wanted to do was to make a rescue attempt out here.

"They don't have enough people on the ground to get this guy out. You know how their agents work. Most operate in one or two man teams. The Section says they have a guy on the inside of the prison but that they need him to maintain his cover," explained Gardner.

"What is the plan then? How do they expect us to get this prisoner, double agent…whatever, out?" Archer's head was beginning to throb at the thought of the Section planning a mission, one that he was going to have to execute.

"They don't have a plan. I made sure that any mission conducted by you would be planned by you and your crew." Through the grainy transmission, Gardner could see Archer's face relax.

"Well, thanks for that favor. At least now I know I have some control over this." Archer wasn't about to make it that easy on Gardner.

"The Section is giving you a gift of sorts, someone that can help you with the Rolumans. It's an agent who worked that sector for years. I am sending you the file right now. Apparently, the Section has no further need for this agent. Looks like a re-assignment to me. You can always use another body on board and this one has tactical experience with the Romulans," said Gardner.

"By the way, how is Commander Tucker doing? Has he adjusted to being back?" asked Gardner.

"He's fine. He's been down in Engineering practically every minute since we picked him up." Archer couldn't help but smile remembering how upset Trip had been after he ran some diagnostics on the ship's systems and found them to be nowhere near the shape he left them.

"Well, maybe he has some insight that might help you as well. A year and a half is a long time to spend as a Romulan. I am sure he picked up a few things along the way. Good luck, Jon." Gardner signed off and the screen went black.

Archer fell back into his chair and let out a large breath. His stomach felt like it flopped over on itself. _How in the hell are we going to pull this off?_ He had no idea how he was even going to make it ten feet inside Romulan space and yet he was expected to launch a full rescue attempt. That is unless the prisoner really was a double agent. The thought had Archer worried. _That could pose a little bit of a problem. He might not want to be rescued. This could be a trap, just another way for the Romulans to get their hands on Enterprise._ As he contemplated the ramifications of the this mission, he uploaded the file that Admiral Gardner had sent onto a hand-held device. As he scanned it he pressed his com button, "Archer to Lieutenant Maryweather."

"Lieutenant Maryweather," the young helmsman quickly replied.

"Travis, bring the ship about and set a course for the Soltarian System. Enter an orbit around Damar IV."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

Within seconds the chime on his ready room door sounded.

"Come on in, T'Pol." He knew that his Science Officer was just as curious about the new mission as he was. As she calmly walked in, arms folded behind her back, he handed her the device and said, "Take a look at this, seems we are getting a new crewman." Archer stood and walked around from behind his desk. He gave her a few seconds to review the information.

T'Pol raised her right eyebrow and handed him back the hand-held, "Interesting."

"That's it? That's all you got for me?" He cocked his head to the side and looked at her with a half smirk. "Sometimes T'Pol, I think you do this to me on purpose just to see my reaction. Don't you find this at all suspect?"

"I don't know what you mean. Vulcans don't intentionally illicit emotion from humans but the situation does seem…suspect, as you put it." She said as flatly as possible however, it was indeed pleasurable to see his facial reactions when she responded curtly to items of significance.

"You know this is a bunch of crap." Archer tossed the hand-held onto his desk and began pacing the tight confines of the room.

"There isn't enough information in that report to draw an accurate conclusion but _Enterprise_ could use a reconnaissance officer," said T'Pol.

"That's very generous of you. We know nothing about this person. Someone who has been out here for almost 15 years should have a file five times that size. Put Malcom on this, see what his contacts can find out. I want her real file, not this piece of garbage the Section gave us," Archer said as he stopped pacing.

"I wasn't aware that Section 31 re-assigned its agents," T'Pol said.

"They don't. That's why I want Malcom to do some digging. The last thing I need out here is a problem child. I don't care how much experience she has with the Romulans."

T'Pol turned and stepped toward the door as Archer asked, "By the way, how is Trip coming along?"

T'Pol stopped mid step, turned her head and half faced the captain. _What was he asking?_ She wondered as her heart leapt up into her throat.

"With the engine, how is Trip coming along with the engine?" Archer immediately clarified. He could see that he had caused her some discomfort.

"He should have it up to his specifications within half a day." T'Pol turned and proceeded to walk out of the room.

Archer walked back over to his desk and sat down. He wondered what was going on between those two. The tension was obvious. He knew that they both cared very much about each other but things seemed different ever since Trip came back. _I better talk to Trip._ Archer was not one to dig into the personal lives of his crew but he needed to ensure that this was not going to become an issue. It was important that his senior officers had clear heads right now.


	4. Chapter 4

4

Captain Archer walked into Engineering and stopped. He looked around the room and noticed right away that the work atmosphere seemed lighter. The crew was busily working at all stations. They were hustling about and seemed driven to complete whatever tasks they were performing. Amongst the busy chaos, there was a sense of calmed efficiency, something that was missing for a long time. Lieutenant Burch did an outstanding job as chief engineer in Trip's absence but things just seemed to be running smoother now, back to normal.

No one was more relieved with Trip's return than Burch. He was more than happy to relinquish the responsibilities of chief engineer.

The Captain found Trip stooped over a systems monitor at one of the rear workstations. "How you doing, Trip?"

"It's crazy down here, sir." Trip barely glanced up to acknowledge his captain.

"I am sure you're glad to be back. I bet that in no time you will get everything just the way you like it," Archer said as he sat down at the adjacent workstation.

"I doubt that, Burch is a great engineer but it looks like you flew the ship through half a dozen solar flares. All the systems need to be recalibrated and the engine manifolds are a mess. You were lucky you didn't have one of the inside fire panels break loose with all the corrosion that's…" Trip caught himself in mid-sentence. He looked over at the captain and suddenly realized that he didn't come down here to discuss the status of the ship's systems.

"What's going on, Captain?" asked Trip. "I noticed we changed course. Has Starfleet finally given us a mission?"

"They have. I need your expertise on something as a matter of fact but we can discuss that later. I was wondering if you would like to come to the captain's mess for dinner. We can catch up on things. I want to hear about how it went with your family. How did they react when their dead son came walking up the driveway?" Archer said with a slight smirk on his face.

"Let's just say that they barely let me leave when I told them it was time for me to report back to _Enterprise_. I'll tell you all about it, over diner. Is it a date?" Trip gave Archer a smile.

"I guess it is. See you later, Trip." Archer stood and let Trip get back to work.

Romii Prison Camp,

Near Romulus

A timid knock came through the thick wooden double doors.

"Get in here, Epohh. What do you want?" shouted Dac'Quare the prison's director.

Epohh approached the director's desk ever so slowly and stood half facing his master as though afraid he would be slapped at any moment. Epohh held out a data card, "This message just arrived, Sir. It's from the Senate."

Dac'Quare grabbed the card out of Epohh's hand and read it. "Have the prisoner brought to the interrogation room then make yourself useful and bring me my dinner!" Epohh stood still, his head down, never taking his eyes off the floor.

"Get out, you worthless piece of garbage!" Dac'Quare yelled as he threw the data card at Epohh's head.

Epohh picked the data card up off the floor, touched his hand to where the card had struck his temple. Green blood began to drip down the side of his face. He bowed and slowly backed out of the office, never turning his back on his master. He closed the doors behind himself and turned to speak to one of the guards who always kept watch outside the director's office. The guard looked down at the timid Romulan with a look of utter distain and began to laugh. He repeated, "Worthless garbage."

"He wants to speak to the prisoner," Epohh replied softly. Epohh then turned and slowly walked away needing to prepare his master's dinner.

The prisoner woke coughing and spitting out water that poured down into his lungs. He opened his eyes and saw a guard throw a water pail into the corner. Another guard grabbed the prisoner by the shoulders and yanked him up off the floor. Both gauds then proceeded to drag him down the hall. They reached the interrogation room and threw him inside, slamming the door as they left. The prisoner knew this room well even in his current confused and groggy state. A single light glared down on him from the ceiling. The room was sparse and contained only a wooden chair, which sat in the middle of the room. The concrete walls were covered in blood, feces and who knows what else. The room had no windows. None of the rooms in the prison had windows, at least none of the rooms that the prisoner had been in.

He had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was. When he was first captured he tried to keep track but that soon became too much of a mental task for him to calculate. He spent his time drifting in and out of sleep unless of course, he wasn't being beaten by the guards.

The prisoner pushed himself up to a seated position. He tightened the muscles in his body in an attempt to prepare himself for the blows that were sure to come. His eyes fixed on a shadowy figure standing in the opposite corner of the room. He shielded his eyes from the light trying to determine who was standing in front of him. He could tell right away that whoever it was, he was not a guard. The guards were all bulky and didn't stand in the corners looking at prisoners. There job was to kick prisoners in the head on a regular basis, a job that they enjoyed.

The figure stepped forward, "What can you tell me about the human war ship that is sitting outside our space?"

The prisoner didn't reply.

"Wake up!" The dark figure seemed to fly across the room. Searing pain shot up through the prisoner's arm as a heavy metal club crashed down onto his hand. The prisoner winced in pain and cradled his twisted and broken hand in his lap.

"Now that I have your attention, what do you know about that ship? What is it doing? What is its mission?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the prisoner answered.

The figure circled the prisoner, his dark cape flowing behind him. "Perhaps I did not introduce myself. I am Director Dac'Quare. I run this prison. I decide whether you live or die. Now, you are going to tell me what I want to know."

"Go to hell!" The prisoner spat through clenched teeth.

Dac'Quare instinctively raised his club above his head and swung down hard but just as the club was to strike its victim, he stopped, slowly lowering it to his side. "Now that is not an appropriate response. You helped the Romulan Empire many times in the past. Answering my questions now, surely would not compromise any ethical beliefs you may hopelessly still be clinging to. All I need to know is what their intent is. Are they planning an attack?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. What ship?" The prisoner asked hoping to delay any further hits.

"There is a human war ship just outside Romulan space. Sensors have identified it as being NX class."

"Sounds to me like maybe they're lost and stopped to ask for directions." The prisoner managed a small smile as he looked defiantly at the director.

Dac'Quare raised his club and swiftly brought it down, striking the prisoner's skull with such force that he sailed across the floor. He lay motionless as the guards came into the room. "Take him back to his cell. Make sure the Doctor keeps him alive." Dac'Quare stepped over the unconscious man on his way out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

5

_USS Enterprise_

"Sir, this chicken parmesan is fantastic! Man, I missed Cook's food," said Trip, his mouth full.

"Glad you like it. You know, I have some Kentucky Bourbon I've been saving, would you like some?" asked Archer as he got up from the table to pour himself and Trip a drink.

"Well this is surprise, refreshments all the way from Kentucky! If I didn't know any better, I would think you were planning to take advantage of me." Trip took the glass from his captain and swallowed half of it. The strong whisky slightly burned his throat as it went down.

Archer laughed, "Not exactly, Trip. I just wanted to celebrate your return. It's good to have you back." Archer lifted his glass as a toast to his friend.

"Thanks, Captain. You know the entire time that I was gone; I couldn't wait to get back to _Enterprise_. It may sound goofy but this ship feels like home to me. So here's to _Enterprise_!" toasted Trip as he raised his glass.

Archer raised his glass in toast, tilted his head back and swallowed the strong liquor. He then stood to retrieve the whisky bottle off the serving hutch located him. "I did want to talk to you about the new mission. Would you like another drink?"

"No thanks, Captain. I have work to do in the morning and I can't be hung over." Trip gave Archer a half smile, like a little kid about to get themselves into trouble. "What's the mission?"

"It has to do with the Romulans," replied Archer.

"Ah Jeez, I think I will have another drink after all," said Trip lowering his head, the smile disappearing from his face.

"It seems the Section wants Starfleet - meaning us, to do them a favor." Archer poured another round of drinks and set the bottle in the middle of the table.

Both men stopped talking as Crewman Duncan unexpectedly entered the room, "Are you finished with dinner, Sir? May I clear away the plates?"

"Thanks, and that will be all for the night," Archer answered, dismissing his steward for the rest of the evening, hoping to avoid further interruptions.

Crewman Duncan turned to leave the room. He was well aware that the Captain no longer wished not to be disturbed. He could see that both men were already enjoying their evening drinks. Not that it mattered to Duncan. He was glad to see the captain in better spirits since the return of Commander Tucker.

Trip turned his attention back to the conversation, "So, I know I'm going to kick myself for asking but what does the Section want us to do?"

"They want us to rescue one of their agents who is supposedly a prisoner of the Romulans," answered Archer.

"What do you mean by – supposedly?" Trip asked as he swallowed his second glass of whiskey.

"Admiral Gardner said that this guy could possibly be a double agent but that the Section was not sure at this point. They want us to attempt a rescue but if the guy gets killed in the process then that's fine. Less they have to clean up I guess." Archer explained as he poured another round of drinks.

"Do they know where he is being kept? What's the plan? Do they expect us to just waltz Enterprise up to the Romulas and knock on the door?" Trip's head was beginning to feel a little dizzy from the alcohol.

"There isn't plan, Trip. They said for us to figure it out. That's why I asked you out for dinner. I wanted to get your thoughts on this and see if you have any great insights, given the time you spent there."

"If you think I have some great insights well, then we are in trouble. You read the file I gave you. You know I spent most of the time working with a bunch of scientists on the Warp 7 project. I tried to avoid visiting any prisons," replied Trip.

"Well, we can't launch a full scale assault. Starfleet isn't giving us any backup. Anything we do has to be done covertly," said Archer, his brain running through possible scenarios.

"I don't see how we're going to pull this off. I went in dressed in full Romulan gear and took the identity of a science officer who had died, even with all that it was difficult. They'll identify an outsider immediately."

"Trip, do you know another agent that works this region, someone with experience in dealing with the Romulans?" Archer wondered if Trip had dealings with the ex-agent who _Enterprise_ was no on course to pick up.

"No, I worked with one other member of the Section but he was killed pretty early on in our mission." Trip took another drink in a feeble attempt to erase the memory of seeing agent Phoung's smoldering corpse on the ground after he was vaporized by a disrupter weapon.

"You ok, Trip?" Archer could see that his friend was somewhere else.

Trip shook his head in an attempt to remove the picture from his mind. "I'm fine, nothing that another drink won't cure." Trip smiled and slid his glass across the table to the captain. "Fill'em up."

As Archer poured that last remaining whisky from the bottle, he understood that his friend was wrestling with some dark thoughts. Archer had read Trip's report of what happened during his time away from _Enterprise_, but he knew that Trip didn't list everything. As a veteran of many battles himself, Archer was acutely aware of the pain his friend was feeling right about now. _It might be best to change the subject. Though I doubt the next topic will be much easier, _Archer thought to himself.

"Trip, I also wanted to talk to you about something else." Archer dived right in, holding his breath slightly.

"Sure, anything," said Trip.

"I wanted to talk about you and T'Pol." _There's_ _no turning back now_, thought Archer.

Trip stared at his captain for what seemed like an eternity and then replied, "We're going to need some more whiskey."

Archer laughed and got up to the get the Andorian ale that he kept stashed on the bottom shelf of the serving hutch. "It's not from Kentucky but it'll do," he said as he poured two glasses.

"Well, you really know how to throw a party, Captain." Trip took a drink of the blue-colored liquor.

"Believe me Trip, this is not a topic that I would like to have, given a choice. I need to know if I can count on two of my senior officers when we cross the border into Romulan space."

"Captain, you have nothing to worry about." Trip replied, trying to sound confident and not drunk but failing miserably.

Archer shook his head, "I know you two have been seeing each other for a while and that it hasn't been easy." _God, I hate this. Maybe I should have had Phlox talk to Trip._

Trip seemed lost in his thoughts again. He was remembering his little girl, Elizabeth. A sweet, innocent baby that he had by T'Pol. Trip's eyes began to sting at he thought, _Why couldn't she have lived? I wanted us to be a family more than anything._

"Captain, I don't know what's going on. After Baby Elizabeth …died," Trip said as he choked down tears. "Thing weren't great between us. I guess, I thought that by leaving we could each move on."

Archer wasn't buying it, "I have to tell you Trip, I can sort of understand why you left but why be gone as long as you were?" It suddenly became clear to Archer how much Trip's leaving must have hurt T'Pol. Even though, Vulcan's are supposed to be able to suppress their emotions, they do feel. They can feel pain and disappointment. He knew this because these were the same feelings that he felt regarding Trip and his decision to leave _Enterprise_.

"You know why I stayed away, Sir! I had an obligation, to serve! I wanted to do what I could against those bastard Romulans!" Trip slammed his glass down on the table as if to make the statement more effective. The blue ale splashed out and left a large stain on the white table cloth.

"I realize you felt some sort of obligation especially after little Elizabeth died but you had an obligation here, to this ship and to T'Pol. You weren't the only one in pain around here. Think about what you put T'Pol through. She lost her mother, her only child and then you. She thought you were dead only to find out that you were just hiding," Archer said through his clenched jaws. He had never spoken to his friend in such harsh manner.

"I'm sorry, Trip. Maybe it's just getting late and we both have had too much to drink." Archer wished he could take back what he said but he also knew that Trip need to hear it.

"Your right, I didn't realize how my leaving would affect others. Anyways, things are fine now. We're both doing great." Trip stood and walked towards the door. As he left he said, "Thanks for the dinner, Sir and don't worry, you can count on both of us."

Trip walked through the mess hall then out into the corridor. The ship was quiet, it was late. He walked purposefully to his quarters, trying hard not to look drunk. To keep his bearings, he walked next to the bulkhead and kept his eyes focused on the floor. He didn't see the steel stanchion and banged the top of his skull, bringing him to his knees. He let out a yelp of pain but quickly got to his feet. The tapped the stanchion with one hand and cupped his throbbing head with the other.

"Sorry, 'bout that," he said to the expansive metal brace as if apologizing to it.

Trip walked on for what he thought was forever. He didn't realize that his quarters were so far away from the mess hall. Finally arriving at what he hope was his door, he pressed the enter button. The door did not move. He pressed it again. The door did not move. He pressed it a third time but then realized it was the wrong button. After pressing the correct one, the door slid open. "I have to get that thing fixed," he said to no one.

Trip stumbled through the entry. He turned to the right and was startled by the sight of T'Pol sitting perched on the end of his bunk. She sat straight, her hands folded in her lap. She stared at him but didn't say anything.

"Hi, honey! I'm home," announced Trip. He flashed his devilish smile but she was unimpressed. He diverted his eyes from her cold stare and stumbled over to his bunk. He threw himself onto his bed, lifting his legs in the air and swinging them up and over T'Pol's head. She leaned slightly to the left in order to avoid Trip's boots from hitting her in the face. He lay exhausted wanting nothing more than to sleep.

"I waited for you. I thought we could have dinner tonight, did something happen?" T'Pol said even though she knew exactly where he had been. When she couldn't find Trip in engineering earlier in the evening, she located him using the ship's computer. He was with Captain Archer in the captain's mess. They were old friends after all. It seemed logical that they would want to spend time together. She was angry at herself for what she interpreted as jealousy in not having been invited. Captain Archer made a habit of dinning with his senior officers. Especially, prior to a large mission such as the one they were about to face. _I'm being irrational. I must be tired. I should go and meditate. _

Trip opened his eyes and turned his head to towards T'Pol. _Why is she still here? God, I am not in the mood to talk._ Trip propped himself up on one elbow and put his other arm around T'Pol's waist. "I should have told you. The Captain came to engineering and asked if I wanted to have dinner." Trip pulled T'Pol towards him but she rebuffed his advances. Trip let go of her and collapsed onto his back. He exhaled loudly, as if pouting like a child.

T'Pol noticed his reply and coolly said, "You're drunk."

Trip had enough. He was not in the mood for games. "You're right, Commander Science Officer! You figured it out. I'm drunk and thanks for you diagnosis," Trip said with all the sarcasm he could muster.

"Coming here was obviously a mistake," replied T'Pol as she stood to leave.

"Well, don't let me stop you." Trip closed his eyes, hoping to finally get some sleep.

T'Pol stood straight, ran her hands down the front of her slacks in order to flatten any the wrinkles. She turned and walked proudly to the door. Just as she was about to press the control button, she stopped. "Will I see you in the morning?" T'Pol said still focused on the door.

Not hearing a reply, she turned around to face him, but Trip was already asleep and snoring softly. She walked back over to his bunk, pulled the covers over him and kissed him softly on the lips. _Goodnight, Trip_.

Trip skewed his facial features and said, "Phoung." A name T'Pol had did not recognize. She dismissed it, realizing that he was just talking in his sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

6

Soltarian System, Planet Damar IV.

Claire arrived at her shop and greeted Matix as usual, "Good Morning, Matix." She removed her cloak and hung it on the hook near the door. She walked the long way to the shop, taking a detour through the farmer's market, which was located down by the pier. She needed the time to clear her head.

"Did you sleep in this morning? You're late." Matix was always quick to point out the obvious and to take little gabs when he could. She didn't mind though, it was all good natured. Truth was that Matix loved Claire. He couldn't imagine a day going by and not seeing her. In another time and dimension, he would have pursued her. As it was though, they were two different species, incompatible for the purpose mating. Not to mention that his hands were full with his wife, Travier who was currently twenty months pregnant with their fourteenth child.

"Well, isn't that a nice welcome. Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed, you old grump?" Claire easily returned his gabs. "Here, I bought you a cup of coffee. Did Travier have a bad night and keep you up or something?"

"No, she's fine. You know this isn't _coffee_ as you call it but thanks," replied Matix taking the cup from Claire. "I just like giving you a rough time. You look terrible by the way. What's the matter?"

"Matix, I can't tell you how enjoyable you are sometimes. Nothing's the matter."

"I'm not sure how you survived this long being a spy because you are a horrible liar. Now sit down and tell me." From the time she arrived on his planet, Matix knew the kind of work that Claire really did. From the little he knew about humans, he found them very easy to read. Not like the Vulcans who sometimes passed through this sector. Matix pulled out a chair from behind the shop's counter and motioned for Claire to sit. "Wait," he said as he walked over to the door, locked it and hung the closed sign. "Now there, we won't be interrupted. Tell me what's going on."

Claire sat and told him about how the Section had re-assigned her to _Enterprise_, and that the ship was scheduled to arrive next week in order to pick her up. "What should I do, Matix?"

"It doesn't seem like you have much of a choice. You could run away but we both know the Section would hunt you down. So unless you plan to hide for the next half of your life span, I guess you should take the job. Sounds like the Section just handed you a way out." Matix was always straight to the point about things, another reason why she liked him.

Claire sat for a few minutes, contemplating what she should do. She was startled by a knock on the door.

"What do you want? We're closed!" Matix yelled at the customer. As he got up to unlock the door, he gave her a pat on the head and said, "Things will work out, don't worry. Now it's time to get to work."

Claire stood and walked to a back room at the rear of the shop. She opened a large locker and peered inside. _It's been a long time since I needed all these_. She said to herself as she began taking out the large number of various weapons she kept locked away.

Late in the afternoon, Matix went back to tell her that he was leaving for the night. He noticed that she had disassembled all of her light-arm weapons, cleaned and packet them into a cargo container. "Looks like you made a decision," he said.

"Like you said, I don't have much of a choice."

"Don't work too long, the storms are moving in. I will see you in the morning," Matix said as he turned and left.

Claire finished and locked the container. She walked to the front door, turned and looked around the shop as if to take one last look at it. She sighed, grabbed her cloak and walked out the door, locking it behind her. It was dark outside and the sand storms blew fiercely. _I won't miss these,_ she thought as she wrapped her cloak around herself and headed for home.

As she walked, she felt as though she was not alone. The streets were deserted due to the storms. The wind was deafening and she couldn't see more than a few meters in front of her. She stopped, looked behind but didn't see anyone. _Come on Claire, you're going crazy. No one is out in this_. She turned back and started walking towards home, eager to get out of the wind.

As she rounded the corner and started up the hill, she felt it again. Someone was following her. The street lights were on but the storms made it impossible to see anything. She quickly side-stepped into a dark entryway, pulled out her phase pistol and waited. She stood there for a few minutes but no one passed by. She re-holstered her weapon and walked back out onto the street.

Once she reached her house, Claire opened the front door, entered and quickly closed and locked it. She looked at her security consol next to the door to see if anyone had entered the house while she was out, no one had. She shook out her cloak and threw it on the chair. The wind howled outside, _it's good to be home_. She turned on the lights; the house was warm and inviting. She made herself a sandwich and took her dinner to her office. She sat down behind her desk. Turning on her computer, she entered a series of passwords and acknowledged the voice recognition programs that alerted when she entered the secure site. She typed the words _Enterprise Crew Manifest_ at the search prompt. As she took a bite of her sandwich the information downloaded. _Might as well start with the bridge officers_, she thought to herself as she brought up the first highlighted field.

The first picture to pop up on the screen was of course the ship's captain. Captain Jonathan Archer, was in command of _Enterprise_ when it was launched in 2151. Claire didn't know Captain Archer personally but she had heard of him. He was a pilot at the Warp Five Complex and worked on the NX-Alpha program when she was a cadet at the academy. Senior engineering students like herself would sometimes be assigned to help out on various projects at the Complex. She had seen him there a few times but never worked with him. Those of her friends who had, said that he was always friendly and respectful to them even though they were just cadets. _I see he has been busy_, she thought to herself as she read the long list of accomplishments that Captain Archer and his crew had done.

Claire tried to keep up with Earth's current events but news did not always travel this far out. She was aware of the Xindi attack on Earth and later of Earth's involvement with the Coalition of Planets. She was not aware however, of some of the specific missions of _Enterprise_ and the other NX class ships. She suddenly felt unprepared for her new assignment. She made a note to herself to review the ship's historical logs.

Claire scrolled down to the next crewmember, Commander T'Pol, the ship's Science Officer_. A Vulcan, that's surprising._ Another thing that she was not aware of, she had no idea that Vulcan's were serving on Earth vessels. Claire herself worked closely with the Vulcans over the years and has come to understand them a great deal. She knew that at times they could seem to be patronizing and rude but she saw this as just their way of communicating. They usually meant no offence by it. Even though the Vulcans had been on Earth for a long time, most humans had trouble relating to them.

Claire continued on and noted something even more surprising. T'Pol's mother's name was listed as T'Les. Claire had met T'Les many times during her trips to Vulcan. T'Les would speak of her daughter who worked with Starfleet but she never said her name nor that she served aboard _Enterprise_. _I wonder why she never mentioned that to me._

The night was getting late. Claire quickly scanned the biographies of the other bridge officers. Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, the ship's armory officer. The name sounded familiar to her but she could not place the face. Next on the list was the ship's communications officer, Lieutenant Hoshi Sato. She was fluent in a long list of languages. V_ery impressive, _Claire thought to herself. And lastly was the ship's helmsman, Lieutenant Travis Mayweather. She noted that he was originally assigned to _Enterprise_ but left for a brief time and then returned.

Claire's back started to ache and her eyes were tired. She rubbed them. They felt like they still had sand in them from her walk home. She shut down her computer then stood arching her back, trying to stretch her sore muscles. She walked out of her office and down the hall to her bedroom. _I'll read the rest of the crew manifest tomorrow, _she told herself as she crawled into bed.

In the morning, Claire woke, got dressed and went to the kitchen. The storms dissipated sometime during the night. In their wake, a thin blanket of sand covered everything outside. The suns were rising; it was going to be a beautiful day. Claire sat out on her balcony enjoying her morning cup of tea and taking in the view. She thought back to her walk home and how she felt as though someone was following her. She wondered if her instincts were failing her. She got up and went into her bedroom to get changed. It wasn't until then that she noticed a small picture of Peter that she kept on her nightstand had been moved slightly. She scanned the rest of the room. Everything seemed to be in its place. She was very meticulous about her things and normally took great pride in her attention to detail, something that served her well over the years. She quickly thought back, trying to remember if she bumped it last night. She hadn't. Her instincts were screaming at her now, something was not right. She ran out to the main living area and checked the security consol by the door again. It had the same display as last night. No one had entered the house. Then like a bolt of electricity to her brain she noticed something. The display did not register her entry into the house either. _Crap_, she ran around the house, checking to see if any of the locks on the windows had been tampered with. Her heart was practically beating in her throat. Everything seemed normal; nothing else was out of place or missing.

Claire's training kicked in. She needed to figure out who had been following her and how they managed to enter her house without her alarm sensors going off. _Start with the easy stuff,_ she thought to herself and located the small toolkit that she kept in her kitchen. _Stupid, how could I be so stupid?_ She took the security consol down off the wall. She was frustrated at herself for being so careless. Claire placed the consol on her dining room table and began removing the access panel that was located on the back of the consol. There were no outward signs of tampering; the panel was secure and had no scratches or marks. She selected this system because in order to make adjustments you had to remove the entire consol and then access its control from the back. This took time. Obviously, someone had the time. This made no sense because in the last three weeks Claire barely left her house_. How could someone break in and disable the sensor and why? Why go through the trouble?_ Then it hit Claire. She hadn't left the house for any extended period of time except after she received the transmission from Simmons. _The Section! Were they behind this?_ Just then Claire opened the panel. She was able to clearly see that someone did in fact tamper with it. The alarm circuitry was rerouted through the "normal and secure" switch. The "unsecure" switch was completely disabled. The entry log was also disabled. _That is why it didn't register my coming in_. Claire shook her head at the simplicity of it all and at her own stupidity. The only way she would have known the system wasn't working was if she ran a test, which she hadn't. R_ooky mistake, I'm lucky that no one sneaked in during the night and cut my throat. _

Claire took the consol into the kitchen and threw it in the trash. She then grabbed her cloak and walked out the door. She didn't even bother to lock it. If someone was going to break in, they were going to do it whether she locked the door or not. This time however, she would be prepared. As Claire walked to the shop she realized that the Section was right. She had lost control. She had been so distracted, first with losing Peter and now having been re-assigned that she forgot where she was. She loved her adopted home planet but it could be a very dangerous place. Claire's line of work also brought risk. This was not the first time that someone attempted to harm her. Previous attempts were less subtle with her enemies taking on a frontal attack. This seemed more covert. If someone was trying to kill her then why not just shoot her as she walked to work or why not take her out at the shop? All of Claire's questions seemed to lead back to the Section. She couldn't understand why they would go through the show of re-assigning her if they were just going to kill her anyway? Claire realized then that she was far too distracted lately. She survived this long because of her instincts and being keenly aware of the details around her. It was time to wake up. 


	7. Chapter 7

_7_

_USS Enterprise_

Trip's head felt like it was splitting open and he was sure that he would vomit on his shoes at any moment. He woke around 0900, knowing that he had died sometime in the night. Otherwise, how else could he feel this horrible? He was late for his shift in engineering but at that particular moment he didn't care. Truth was, at that moment he didn't care much about anything.

After what seemed to take an eternity, he managed to finish getting dressed. Of course having to puke every ten minutes slowed down the process a bit. He lay on his bunk, contemplating if he had the strength to make it to the mess hall. _Maybe I'll feel better after breakfast and coffee_. He decided against it though and fell back asleep.

T'Pol reported to her station early, which was normal for her. After reviewing the ship's logs from the previous night she couldn't help but notice that Captain Archer had not arrived on the bridge. It was unlike him to be late. The rest of the alpha-shift crew had all reported to their stations.

"Lieutenant Reed, have you seen the Captain this morning?" T'Pol asked. She thought that maybe he arrived earlier than her and was in his ready room.

"No, Ma'am. Would you like me to send a security team to his quarters?" Lieutenant Reed replied.

"That won't be necessary, Lieutenant." T'Pol was always satisfied by Mr. Reed's job performance but at times he was somewhat eager in activating security measures.

T'Pol turned her attention to her consol. She was just about to perform a ship-wide scan for the Captain's biosign, when the turbolift doors opened and the Captain stepped off the platform. The others glanced up only to see the Captain standing with one hand securely holding onto the bridge's bulkhead. They quickly lowered their stares and busied themselves at their stations.

"If anyone needs me, I will be in my ready room," announced Archer as he leaned forward to grab the hand rail that ran along the aft section of the bridge. He tried his best to walk straight towards the door but he took a slight stumble halfway across. He quickly regained his balance and hoped that no one noticed.

Inside his ready room Archer sat down behind his desk and began to pour himself a large cup of coffee. As he filled his mug, the door chimed which caused him to jump slightly and spill hot coffee across his desk and to burn his hand. The chime sounded like a bullhorn in Archer's ears.

"Damn it!" Archer shouted as he slammed the coffee carafe down.

T'Pol entered and stood by the edge of the desk, observing her captain in a state of distress. He stood trying to avoid the spilled coffee that was beginning to drip down the side of his desk and onto his chair.

"Captain, are you alright? You seem rather…unwell." T'Pol selected her words carefully as it was obvious that Captain Archer was still feeling the effects of his evening with Commander Tucker.

"I'm fine. What can I do for you?" Archer replied without even looking up at T'Pol. Archer tried not to sound irritated but he was not in the mood for any of T'Pol's condescending remarks. Any normal Vulcan would comment on his intoxication level out of pure spite. T'Pol though, had developed a very dry sense of humor during her time aboard _Enterprise_. She seemed to take pleasure in goading him during times when he was not at the top of his game. Ignoring her, Archer took a towel down from the self above his desk and began to clean up the mess.

"We will be arriving in the Soltarian System within the next few hours. Lieutenant Reed just gave me this. It's the file that you asked him to locate. He wanted to give it to you himself but I thought it wise that the crew not see you in this condition," said T'Pol as she handed him a hand-held device.

"I have a hangover Subcommander, not a – condition. Did you review this?" Archer asked as he sat back down in his chair. He pushed the towel and what was left of his coffee aside and he began to look through the file. The first thing that he noticed was that it was much more extensive than the one provided by Starfleet.

"No, I did not look at it," replied T'Pol.

Archer pushed his com switch, "Malcolm, come to my ready room."

Lieutenant Reed responded, "Aye, aye, Sir." Within a few seconds Archer's armory officer was standing before him. Malcolm Reed had been recruited by the Section prior to his assignment on _Enterprise._ Early on, Malcolm's loyalty to Archer had been called into question. The Section requested his services in slowing down Archer's attempts at rescuing Phlox who had been kidnapped by Klingons. Reed later distanced himself from the Section and told them never to contact him again. Archer on various occasions however, used Reed's involvement with the Section to gather information as he needed.

"Did you have much trouble getting this file, Malcolm?" Archer asked.

"Actually, no I didn't, sir." Reed offered as if surprised by the willingness of the Section.

"Well, it seems that they are offering us a gift on a silver platter," Archer responded but did not direct his comment to either T'Pol or Reed. Archer had yet to tell any of his senior staff that Starfleet had ordered them to locate and rescue a suspected rouge agent.

"Captain?" T'Pol asked.

Archer gave a brief synopsis of the file in his hands, "It says that agent Claire Dawson was recruited by the Section a couple years out of the Academy. That was about fifteen years ago. She has spent most of that time working undercover and conducting covert missions within the Romulan Empire. About five years ago she took up residence on Damar IV. She currently owns a shop and pulls security for cargo and transport ships."

"That must be highly risky considering our proximity to Romulan and Klingon space. Sir, how do you imagine she survived out here this long? It's a long way back to Earth. As far as I know, we are the only humans out this far. She can't have much back-up if something goes wrong," said Reed as he tried to understand why someone would want to live out this far for the last fifteen years. He also wondered why the Section had assigned her to _Enterprise_ but decided against asking the Captain.

"It appears that she does have extensive knowledge and experience regarding this area of space. Perhaps the Section felt she would be useful in dealing with the Romulans," T'Pol added.

"I doubt the Section would just hand over one of its agents because they thought she could be useful," Archer replied with a slight irritation in his voice. His instincts were telling him that this was more complicated than the Section just offering to help. He continued, "The Section asked Starfleet to help rescue one of its agents. Apparently, he was captured and is being held in a Romulan prison."

T'Pol and Reed glanced at each other. Neither one said anything or moved. Reed's mouth however, dropped open slightly, which revealed a look of shock. "Sir, they want us to rescue an agent from a …Romulan prison? Why?" Reed almost choked on the words. He was hoping that he misunderstood the Captain.

"Yes, Malcolm. Starfleet wants us to rescue one of the Section's agents. According to intel the agent is still alive. The Section feels that perhaps he is working for the Romulans and obviously, they want him back," explained Archer. The news had not gotten better over time. Archer had been dreading telling them and secretly hoped that by keeping it quiet that perhaps Starfleet would come to their senses. They hadn't. "I have no idea why Starfleet agreed to this. I was told that bringing this guy out alive was not necessarily part of the deal. You and I both know that the Section does not hold much loyalty to anyone, not even to their agents. They could care less if he makes it out in one piece. I have the feeling they just want this problem to go away. Hopefully, we aren't caught in the crossfire," said Archer as he stood up and walked over to the window. He looked out at the beautiful array of stars moving past. Normally, he took comfort in viewing the streaks of light but this time the sight just made him dizzy. Still feeling the effects of his hangover, Archer turned back around and began to pace the small confines of his ready room.

"How are we going to locate this prisoner, Sir?" Reed asked.

"From what I understand, the Section has no clue where he is. He could be in downtown Romulas for all we know. They do have someone on the inside. This person is close enough to know that the agent is still alive but apparently the Section does not want the operative to be discovered. I also found out that undercover agents don't always report their locations to their superiors. Can't say I blame them, given the Section's tendency to eliminate its own personnel on any given whim. This is why we are being handed a gift. Only this gift is an ex-agent whom we know nothing about other than the Section doesn't want her anymore. We know she has spent years out here so she must have some idea where they would keep him." Archer's head was beginning to throb. He walked back around to his desk, sat down and rubbed his temples. "Let's just pick her up and see what she knows. If this turns out to be one of the Section's games then we will put her right back down on Damar IV." Both T'Pol and Reed turned to leave Captain Archer's ready room.

"T'Pol," announced Archer as the two officers were about to leave. T'Pol stopped just inside the doorway, Reed continued on towards the bridge. "Let me know when we get there and have Travis establish an orbit," ordered Archer. T'Pol acknowledged his command by slightly moving her head downward. She was about to leave but once again stopped short of the door. She looked at Archer for a long second as if contemplating what she was about to say. "Captain, maybe you could try and get some rest," T'Pol stated in her usual flat tone. Before Captain Archer could reply, she was gone and the door closed behind her. Archer sat looking at the door and smiled slightly. _That almost sounded like she cared_, Archer thought to himself. He then picked up the file and continued to read.

Trip woke and fumbled for the com switch, "Tucker to Engineering."

"Burch, go ahead Commander," the Lieutenant replied.

Trip tried in vain to locate the volume control. It felt like Burch was screaming in Trip's ear. "I'm going to be a little late, uhhh…I'm feeling…sick today. I'll be down when I can," Trip fell back onto his bunk mentally exhausted.

"No problem, Sir. Engineering out," replied Burch.

Trip slowly sat up. It had been a long time since he drank that much alcohol. He tried to remember when the last time was. Then it hit him like a punch to his midsection. The last time was shortly after the death of his sister Elizabeth. She had been killed during an attack on Earth. The Captain helped him empty a bottle of whisky that time also. It was a rare event for Trip to drink as much as he did last night but here he was hung over as all hell. He barely remembered walking to his quarters. _Damn! T'Pol! _Trip suddenly remembered that T'Pol was in his quarters waiting for him. _Well, I screwed that one up. Guess I'll hear about it._

Trip stood and walked into the bathroom. He leaned over the sink and admired his haggard reflection. _I look like hell_, he thought to himself and splashed cold water on his face. He dried himself and tried to comb his hair down flat but it was clearly a futile effort.

Later, Trip walked into the mess hall hoping to grab a late lunch before heading to Engineering. Mercifully, the room was empty. Everyone had already returned to their duties. Being late afternoon there wasn't much left to eat in the refrigeration case. Trip was not in the mood for company as he sat down at a table farthest away from the door. He sat eating his bologna sandwich when T'Pol walked in. _Well, there is no avoiding this now_, he thought to himself as T'Pol walked over to his table.

"May I join you?" she asked.

"Sure," Trip replied as he motioned to the chair across from him.

T'Pol sat down, "Are you alright?"

"Never better, why?" Trip answered but did not look at her. He continued to eat this sandwich.

"I went down to engineering but Lieutenant Burch said that you hadn't been in. He said you called but that you weren't feeling well." It was obvious that something was bothering Trip besides his hangover. T'Pol had never known him to be delinquent in his duties. His behavior had been erratic since they returned to _Enterprise_. Normally, his emotions were very light and relaxed but that had not been the case for some time. Their time together on Vulcan was pleasurable. Trip had been away for an extended period working undercover for the Section. They maintained contact with each other due to their shared mental bond. This same bond led her to travel into Romulan space because she knew that Trip was at great risk. He had been very angry at her but in the end it brought them closer together. However, since their return he seemed very withdrawn. She had attempted to speak with him regarding his change of emotional state but it was not something she was accustomed to doing.

"T'Pol, I want to apologize for last night. I shouldn't have taken it out on you," Trip said in such a low voice that even T'Pol's Vulcan ears could barely pick up the words.

"Take what out on me?" T'Pol fidgeted in the chair slightly. She wasn't sure were the conversation was going.

Trip suddenly couldn't stomach anymore of his sandwich and pushed the plate towards the center of the table. He leaned forward on his chair and wrung his hands. She could see that he was uncomfortable. Something was bothering him, she was sure now.

"Would you like to talk to me about what's been bothering you?" asked T'Pol. She held her breath slightly and then thought maybe that she wasn't the best person for him to talk to. "Maybe you should talk to the doctor."

"The doctor? Why should I talk to Pholx?" Trip's tone suddenly became very cold.

Not wanting to anger him, T'Pol tried to reassure him that she was just trying to help. "I believe that human's sometimes feel more comfortable talking to a professional."

"What? Be serious, I don't need to talk to Phlox." Trip looked at her with complete confusion. He stood quickly and walked over to the window.

Although it was against T'Pol's nature, she knew she had to continue to try to get Trip to open up. Something was troubling him and she needed to find out what it was. She stood and walked over to him. Standing just inches behind him, she could smell his scent and wanted more than anything to wrap her arms around him, rest her head on his broad shoulders and bring him close to her. However, her Vulcan logic screamed in her head, telling her that this was not the appropriate place. Uncomfortable with such a show of affection she instead clasped her hands behind her back. "I know something is bothering you, Trip. Maybe I can help," her words sounded empty even to her. The moment felt painfully awkward. They had shared so much yet, moments like these still seemed very uncomfortable. How she wished she could be more like him, able to express her emotions and show affection openly.

Trip sensed her closeness. He turned, looked into her face but did not embrace her. During their long relationship, he had always waited for her to make the first move. He knew that Vulcans did not show affection in the same way that humans did. He never wanted her to feel uncomfortable, never wanted to rush her. As he looked at her, he suddenly realized that he could never share with her the pain that he was struggling with. How could he confide in someone that doesn't understand human emotions. Even when their baby Elizabeth died, they hadn't come together as two grieving human parents might have. They in fact drifted apart. Trip felt that T'Pol retreated further into her Vulcan methods of coping with grief. He felt abandoned in some ways by her and was forced to deal with his pain on his own. At the time, he thought that throwing himself into his work and later joining the Section would allow him to forget all the loss that he had endured in his life. By joining the Section he wanted to make a difference and do what he could to help the war effort. Leaving T'Pol for those years was the hardest thing he ever did. He allowed her and his family to think he was dead in order to protect is cover. He justified the lies by believing that he was making a difference in the fight against the Romulans. Then during his time undercover posing as a Romulan scientist working on the Warp 7 project, he endured even more loss. It was incomprehensible to him. He wanted to forget about the past and do things for the better good but his attempts only seemed to make things worse. He realized now that running away and leaving _Enterprise_ was a mistake. Trip wondered though if by returning he hadn't made another mistake. He now realized that even though he was gone for almost two years, nothing had really changed. He was still in the same amount of pain and was still just as alone as he was before he left.

In a cracked and emotion laden voice Trip said, "I just don't think this is working T'Pol." There he said the words. He turned away from her and faced the center of the room, which forced her to look at the side of his face.

T'Pol stood still, not making a move. Then she took a step around him and gazed out the window but not really seeing anything. Her mind was reeling, not sure what she should say next. Her heart was beating loudly in her ears. _What does he mean?_

With their backs to each other they both stood silently. The heavy words that he had spoken were between them like a thick fortress wall.

"I'm afraid I do not understand," T'Pol finally spoke. She felt as though by saying anything the inevitable would happen. It was like being in an out of control ship as it careened towards a planet's surface. She wanted to stop this but she wasn't in control, she couldn't stop it.

Trip's heart was breaking in two. His chest felt heavy and he found breathing to be difficult. He looked down at the floor, not turning to face her. "I need more than this T'Pol. Nothing has changed for us."

T'Pol turned away from the window and faced his back. She thought that maybe he was talking about being back here, on _Enterprise_. Maybe he wasn't happy with that decision. "If you need some time away, I am sure Captain Archer will…"

"No, that isn't it. It's us. I hoped that things would be different when I came back. I thought that when you came to find me that you wanted…us to be together." Trip turned to face her again, he wanted to make her understand but at the same time it was killing him to say the words.

T'Pol realized what he meant but was not sure if she could allow herself to enter into a formal bond with him. It was unheard of for a Vulcuan to mate outside of their species. She was already considered "tainted" by many Vulcans for living as long as she had with humans. She was unprepared to make such a large sacrifice even for the person she cared for most. She didn't know if she had the strength or desire to be the first Vulcan to give herself to a human. T'Pol cast her eyes downward, not wishing to look at him directly. She knew that she could not provide him with the response that he was hoping for. "It has only been a short time for us."

Trip's eyes grew large, his face full of astonishment. "A short time? Damn it T'Pol, we have been in this …relationship, if you could call it that, for three years!" Trip took her face in his hands, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. Unnerved by his sudden show of force over her, she took a step back and grabbed is wrists. He dropped his arms and took a step around her. Walking back over to the window and trying to gain control of his anger, he said, "I don't know how long it usually takes for two Vulcans to decide if they want to be together but three years is a hell of a long time long for humans."

T'Pol was somewhat surprised by his sudden show of emotion. Rarely, did he speak to her like that and never had he put his hands on her in such a forcefully way. "It's normal for two Vulcans to wait a decade or more before committing to each other. Then if both parties agree, it is custom to wait another five years before marriage," she tried to sound as encouraging as possible in order to diffuse the situation.

Trip spun around, "Fifteen years!" he shouted. "I don't have the life span of a Vulcan, T'Pol. I can't wait that long! You went and married that other guy and you barely knew him."

"His name is Koss and it was an arranged marriage made by my parents when I was a child. I had little choice in that matter," said T'Pol who was becoming slightly agitated. Her brief marriage to a Vulcan architect was quickly annulled. It was not something that she was proud of. Although she cared for Koss, it was a mistake to marry him. Even so, she did not appreciate Trip for bringing Koss into this. It seemed as if Trip was trying to hurt her in some way. "This has nothing to do with Koss," she said.

"You're right, this isn't about him. This is about you. You still have no idea what you want. I tried to be patient and let you come to terms with your…Vulcan ideals. Especially, how they affect us but all I seem to do is to sit around and wait for you to make the next move. Well, I'm tied T'Pol, tired of waiting," he said in a louder voice than what was needed.

Just then a junior crewmember with incredibly bad timing entered the mess hall. He stood in the door and stared at the two senior officers. It was obvious that they were in a heated discussion. He felt that he was in the wrong place but didn't dare move. All he could do was to stare at them. Trip looked up at the young crewmember and stepping around T'Pol said, "The mess hall is closed!" The crewmember immediately turned on his heels and exited the room.

"He will think that something inappropriate is going on," T'Pol said.

"What's inappropriate, T'Pol?" he said throwing his hands in the air. "We haven't done anything inappropriate for a long time. We're just having a conversation, that's all. You always cared too much about what other people thought anyway. I'm done, T'Pol. I can't wait around anymore." Trip walked over to the door, turned and said in a slightly sarcastic tone, "Good-bye, T'Pol."

T'Pol stood and could only watch as Trip left the room. She turned towards the window, grasped her hands behind her back and stared out at the stars. _How did this happen? This was completely unexpected_. T'Pol's scientific brain began to run possible causes for the outcome for which she found herself in the middle of. After a few minutes she could only conclude that this was a primary example of erratic human emotion on Trip's part.


	8. Chapter 8

8

Romii Prison Camp,

Near Romulus

Epohh entered his master's quarters through a narrow side door. He held a tray of food but did not announce his presence. He learned very early on that slaves do not announce themselves when entering a room. They could easily find themselves on the receiving end of a severe beating if they caused even the slightest interruption. Quietly Epohh stood for a few seconds, listening for the presence of others in the room. Thankfully, he was alone. He allowed himself to exhale a relaxed breath. The situation was becoming more difficult. His master was growing more and more erratic as the days pasted.

Epohh came to this facility about one year ago. He was accused and charged with stealing a money sack from a local government official as the man walked through the city market. At least that is what the sentencing judge announced as he ordered Epohh to be imprisoned here for an indeterminate amount of time. It made no difference that Epohh was nowhere near the market at the time of the theft and that no witnesses ever came forward. Epohh was pulled off the street the next day. He stood before a quickly assembled judicial court and was transported to the prison all within the span of an hour.

Epohh soon became a favorite with the guards, hence the name _Epohh_. Epohh is not the slave's given name. It was awarded to him upon his arrival. The word Epohh is a Romulan term for pet. It wasn't just the guards that gave Epohh "special" attention but Director Dac'Quare took notice of him as well. Within a very short time the Director gave orders that Epohh was to be his personal property. Life as the Director's slave was not much better but at least Epohh was free of the guards. Unlike other prisoners in the facility, Epohh was able to wander freely as long as he remembered his place and did what he was told. The guards for the most part left him alone. They didn't dare accost the Director's property for fear of finding themselves in a cell or worse.

Epohh walked over to a small enclave of the room. This is where the Director took his evening meals. He liked to sit at the small table and look out the large windows that encircled the enclave. This part of the room overlooked the prison's courtyard and side gate. Here the Director could sit high above the yard and watch as new prisoners were brought in and processed. Epohh placed the tray of food down on the table and closed his eyes tightly. The day of his own passage through the gate flooded his memory. A memory that Epohh hoped he would soon forget. His thoughts and memories were becoming more and more difficult to control. His time here was beginning to take its toll on his mental state.

Suddenly, Epohh spun around as if being awoken from a deep sleep. He heard his master's heavy steps stop short of the outer door. The door began to swing open. Epohh swiftly and silently crossed the room in order to make his exit out the side door. He was not quick enough. With his hand on the door's latch, he heard his master's breath laden demand, "Come my Epohh! Your master is hungry this evening." Epohh dropped his hand to his side, lowered his eyes and slowly turned towards the center of the room. The Director was moving not towards the table of food but to his bed chamber. Epohh's stomach lurched; bile rising up towards his throat. He resigned himself and followed his master into the room, closing the large wooden door behind him. To Epohh the room was his cell.

The prisoner slowly opened one eye. His head felt as if it were floating, detached from his body. Excruciating pain shot to his temples. He tried to cover his head in a feeble attempt to release the lightning storm of pain that now encircled his skull. Through the fog, he sensed that he was not alone. Once again, he tried to open his eyes but only one seemed to be functioning. He moved his hand over his left eye socket only to feel a large swollen mass of flesh.

"Don't worry, the eye is still intact. From what I can tell it is only swollen but I am unable to determine if there is any internal damage," a quiet voice informed the prisoner. "You also received a significant blow to your hand. I am afraid it's broken. I set it but it will take some time to heal."

Slowly the prisoner realized that the man speaking was the prison's doctor. A prisoner himself, the doctor had limited medical equipment but seemed very competent. Unfortunately, this was not the prisoner's first visit from the doctor. In previous conversations with him, the prisoner learned that the doctor was actually the personal physician of a highly ranked Romulan senator. The senator was later murdered for providing support to the wrong side of an attempted government overthrow. All of the senator's men were either publically hanged or sent here.

"I also bandaged your other wounds. Please try and keep the dressings clean. I know that can be difficult in this place," urged the doctor. "What did they want this time?"

"Thank you, Doctor. I will do my best," replied the prisoner, ignoring the last question. The prisoner enjoyed the conversations he and the Doctor sometimes shared. It was refreshing and good for one's mental state to hold discussions with intelligent beings. The guards were stupid. Even if they allowed themselves to speak with the prisoners rather than beat them, he seriously doubted that they had the ability to hold a thoughtful conversation. The prisoner liked the doctor and appreciated his care but he didn't trust him. The prisoner knew not to trust anyone here as that could prove to be a deadly mistake.

"Well, try to stay out of their way for a few days. You have a concussion. I am afraid that you will not survive another blow if you are not allowed time to recover from this one. I will inform the guards that you must be left alone. I doubt it will help." The doctor stood and walked over to the cell door. He announced his presence to the guard, who unlocked the door and allowed the doctor to leave.

The prisoner fell back asleep. His only desire was to escape the pain, which was now radiating through his entire body.

Epohh quietly escaped his master's quarters earlier that evening. The Director was asleep on the bed, a disgusting mass of sweaty flesh. Epohh's distain for his circumstances was almost overwhelming to him. As he walked through the prison's corridors, he couldn't help but wonder when this would all come to an end. He now found himself carrying another tray of food but this time he was deep within the prison's inner structure.

"What are you doing here?" A guard stepped forward out of the shadows. Epohh defiantly kept quiet and continued to move forward. He really was tired of this.

"Stop!" the guard shouted and rushed around Epohh so that they were now standing face-to-face in the black corridor.

"I have some food for the prisoner," Epohh said in a strong voice but did not raise his eyes to meet the guard's stare.

"No one told me about this. Who ordered it?" the guard did not budge, he was becoming more hostile.

"The Director told me to bring this to the prisoner. I am sure his intention is to keep him alive," Epohh explained. He knew the guard would never question the Director or ask why he had sent his slave down with food for the prisoner. The guards did not question the Director's intensions. Therefore, Epohh was confident that they would never discover that he was acting alone and not under the Director's orders.

The guard moved to the side and allowed Epohh to pass. The guard turned and followed the slave down the corridor and to the prisoner's cell door. He unlocked it and allowed Epohh to enter then secured the door behind him. The guard waited outside but opened the viewing hatch. He was not about to leave the slave inside alone with the prisoner. If either were killed, it was the guard who would pay for the lapse of security.

Epohh entered the cell, stood in the middle of the room and allowed his vision to adjust to the low lighting. He felt the guard watching him from the door. Epohh then noticed a balled-up figure on the floor next to the far wall. It wasn't moving. Epohh walked over, knelt down next to the figure and placed the tray on the floor. He gently put his hand on the man's shoulder.

The prisoner slowly woke. He felt a slight pressure on his arm. "Are you alright?" The prisoner lifted his head in order to see the person who knelt over him. He found that it was too exhausting to speak.

Epohh now realized that the doctor's prediction was correct. The prisoner would soon be dead. "I spoke with the doctor. He said…" Epohh stopped and realized that it probably wasn't best to talk about that now. "Anyway, I brought you some food. Please, make sure you eat it. You need to stay strong. It won't be long now. I understand that a starship is just outside Romulan space." The prisoner blinked his eye and gave a slight nod as if to signal that he understood what was being said.

A sudden and loud bang echoed off the cell walls. "Leave, now!" the guard yelled through the view port of the door. He held his club high as to show that he would use it on Epooh if he didn't leave the cell quick enough. Epohh gently touched the man's shoulder again. A warning thought entered Epohh's mind but he ignored it and quietly whispered, "I will get word to them and inform them that you are still alive." He quickly stood and left.

As Epohh walked back through the corridors, he wondered why he had taken such a foolish risk. He wondered to himself if this place was beginning to affect his sanity.


	9. Chapter 9

9

_USS Enterprise_

Trip walked into engineering and headed straight for his workstation. It was located in the back corner of the room, under the catwalk of the upper deck. He silently hoped that no one would notice him. All he wanted to do was to bury himself in his work. No such luck. Lieutenant Burch noticed Trip the second he came through the door.

Burch, with a smile on his face, walked over to the workstation and reported, "Sir, if you don't mind me saying so, you look like hell." Burch had no idea that Trip was still recovering from a hangover. Half jokingly he added, "You said that you were sick but you must not have gotten enough beauty sleep either."

"Burch, don't you have work to do?" Trip said with a look of total seriousness. Trip liked Lieutenant Burch but he was not in the mood to deal with his crap today.

Burch's smile disappeared. With a look of disappointment, he lowered his eyes, "Yes, sir. Sorry, we are about to run a system wide diagnostic."

"Then you better get back to it," Trip replied in a cool tone and turned his attention to his console. The young engineer turned on his heels and quickly walked off. Suddenly, the usually standard diagnostics run became very important not just to Burch but also to the rest of the engineers in the room. Everyone became very engaged in whatever task they were doing. A few inquisitive eyes glanced in Trip's direction but no one approached him.

_Damn it! _Trip put his elbows on his desk and rested his head in his hands. His head felt like it was about to explode. He let out an exasperated sigh. Trip was keenly aware that the room suddenly became quiet and full of nervous tension. _I can't even get peace here! What the hell am I doing!_

Trip stood and walked over to the door. "Burch, you have Engineering!" yelled Trip over his shoulder has he walked out into the corridor.

"Yes, Sir!" Burch yelled in reply but Commander Tucker was already gone. Burch looked around the room and noticed that all the engineers had stopped what they were doing. Each had a look of astonishment on their faces. "Everyone, get back to work! We don't need to drop out of warp because the Commander isn't feeling good today. It's no big deal!" With that everyone returned to their duties. Burch silently became very concerned for his superior officer. Although he tried to down play the situation, Burch knew that Commander Tucker was not acting like himself. It wasn't like him to show up late for his shift and Burch couldn't think of a time when Commander Tucker just walked out like he had. Burch was at a loss but quickly gathered himself and went back to the diagnostics.

Trip found himself walking into sick bay. He hadn't even realized this was where he was going until the doors slid open before him.

Phlox, turned and noticed Commander Tucker standing in the doorway, "Ah, Commander, come in. What can I do for your?" Trip took a few steps forward into the center of the room but didn't answer.

Phlox looked at Trip then realized that the Commander wasn't going to answer. The Doctor walked over to his storage cabinet and began to re-supply some of the med kits that he had been neglecting for a few months. He knew that Commander Tucker was deeply troubled but also knew that he was not the type to open up easily. It was best to approach the matter slowly and only when the Commander was ready. The fact that the Commander was in sick bay at all was a good sign at least Phlox hoped it was.

"Commander, how can I help you?" asked Phlox.

Trip stood in the middle room, he barely heard Phlox. He stood staring at nothing, his shoulders bent and his head dropped forward. "What?...Oh, a headache. Sorry, Doc. My head is killing me." Trip rubbed the bridge of his nose then walked over to the bio bed and sat down.

"No problem, Commander. Let's take a look," said Phlox with a soft smile on his face. He took out his medical scanner.

"It looks as though your headache is caused by dehydration. Have you been getting enough fluids?" asked Phlox.

"Maybe too much," Trip replied as he lowered his head and closed his eyes. He felt like he was about to get a lecture for the school principle.

Phlox said with a sound of confusion, "I am afraid I don't understand, Commander."

Trip couldn't help but smile slightly. The look on the Commander's face reminded the doctor of his own boys when they were young and had just been caught doing something they shouldn't have. "The Captain and I…we…had a few drinks last night." Trip rolled his eyes slightly and looked away, his face flush with embarrassment.

"I see, well that explains the dehydration." Phlox moved his scanner over the Commander's upper torso.

"I was fine until he…the Captain…brought out the Andorian ale. I tell you, that stuff really knocked me on my …" Trip realized that he was providing more information than what was needed.

"Well, I suggest that you go to the mess hall for some dry toast, and drink plenty of water. Afterwards you might want to try and get some sleep. Here is a hypospray for the headache," Phlox said as he injected Trip.

"Thanks, Doc," said Trip.

Phlox took a step back and noticed something unsettling about the way the Commander appeared. "Is there something else, Commander?"

Trip took a deep breath and released it before speaking, "I haven't been able to sleep very much lately." Trip always had trouble sleeping. It had gotten worse when his sister was killed but he had managed to overcome his insomnia in the past. Now though, it was back ad in full force.

"How long has this been going on?" asked Phlox.

"Not long after I got back," admitted Trip.

"Commander, that was months ago. Why didn't you come to me sooner," Phlox was astonished.

"I don't know. I guess I thought I would just deal with it," replied Trip.

"Have you been able to _deal with it_?" asked Phlox in a tone, which made Trip feel as though he was being reprimanded.

Trip lowered his eyes to the floor and spoke quietly, "Not exactly. I close my eyes and I begin to see people's faces that I knew or …certain… past events."

"I assume these memories are rather traumatic," Phlox added.

Trip nodded in agreement. "I also haven't been the easiest person to be around lately. I've been distracted. Hell, I don't even want to be down in engineering these days."

Phlox tilted his head up slightly and looked down at someone who was in a great deal of pain. At that moment, Phlox realized how deeply Trip's losses had affected him and how his experiences with the Section had scared him. Phlox then did something that he rarely did. He placed his hand on Trip Tucker's shoulder. It was a gesture of pure kindness and empathy.

"Commander, I know that your time away from here was not easy for you. When someone goes through a very traumatic experience it is normal to feel overwhelmed, exhausted and disconnected from others. I wish I could give you an injection or develop some cure but this is something that you will have to come to terms with. Humans are very resilient. I have faith that you will get through this but it will time. As for you being able to sleep, I would suggest that you try Vulcan neuropressure again." Phlox gave Trip a coy smile.

"Ooooh, no, you can forget that Doc." Trip stood and began to walk towards the door.

Phlox tilted his head, "It seemed to work quite well for you before."

Trip stopped and faced the Doctor, "Well, forget it. That is no longer an option."

"I see, in that case come by this evening and I will give you a mild sedative but only short term. You might also avoid making any rash decisions at least for a while. In your state of mind, you might find yourself regretting certain choices," Phlox suggested.

"You're too late on that one, Doc. See ya later and thanks." Trip crossed the room and was just about to press the door control when the ship suddenly lurched. Trip braced himself against the door, "What the hell!" Just then the ship's tactical alert sounded. Trip glanced back at Phlox to see that the doctor had fallen to the floor. Phlox was getting up slowly but raised his hand to show that he was fine and to signal to Trip to go ahead and leave him. Trip opened the doors to sick bay and ran down the corridor towards engineering.

As he ran, the ship lurched again. It was obvious that the ship had just come to a dead stop. Trip burst into Engineering and found himself in the middle of chaos. Thick smoke was beginning to engulf the room, sparks shot from several relay panels and small fires had broken out. The distinct smell of burning electrical components filled his nostrils. He counted at least three crewmembers on the floor. Others were already rendering aid.

"Shut down the reactor! Concentrate on the fires!" Trip began shouting orders as he ran over to the com panel. "Engineering to Bridge, what the hell is going on?"

"Trip, we are under attack by a small vessel off the port side! What is your status?" Captain Archer yelled into the com panel located on the arm rest of his chair.

"Sir, we have fires throughout and I had to shut down the reactor. I can't give you a complete status right now!" yelled Trip over the sounds of destruction.

"Let me know engine status as soon as you can," ordered Archer.

"Aye, Sir." Trip replied then turned to check the status display. _Damn it! I should have been here._ Trip couldn't help but chide himself for not being at his station when the ship was attacked.

"Mr. Reed, what's weapon status?" Archer asked.

"Sir, we have weapons but the vessel has moved within just a few meters of our port side. I can't get a clear shot," answered Malcolm.

"Travis, do we still have impulse?" Archer asked as he ran possible defensive actions through his head.

"No, Sir. The helm is no longer responding," replied Travis.

"Sir, the vessel is preparing to dock," T'Pol reported from her station.

"Can you stop them?" asked Archer in a quick and breathless voice.

T'Pol replied, "No, they disabled the controls and are using a manual clamping devise."

Archer turned to face Lieutenant Reed, "Malcolm, send a team of MACOs down there, evacuate the section and be prepared to seal it off if needed."

"T'Pol, try to find a way to get that ship off of us," ordered Archer.

Hoshi had been monitoring the com frequencies and suddenly reported, "Sir, there is an incoming transmission. It's from the vessel, audio only. "

"Open the channel," Archer ordered. Hoshi immediately routed the transmission through the ship's translation matrix and transferred it to the bridge's audio magnification unit.

"You are being boarded. Jettison your cargo now. You will also surrender all valuables to include weapons and precious metals. If you comply with our demands your ship and crew will be released, unharmed. If you resist, you will be eliminated and your ship destroyed." The voice was flat with little inflection. Archer wondered if it was a recording.

"This is Captain Archer of the _USS Enterprise _we are not …" The com line went dead. Captain Archer looked at Hoshi, "What the hell happened?"

"Sir, I don't think they liked your response," answered Hoshi.

Trip scrambled to prioritize repairs. The alien vessel had somehow managed to knock out most of the electrical components in engineering. His teams had to rely on handheld scanners to troubleshoot damaged systems. This meant that getting a status update to the Captain was taking longer than he liked. Worse yet, without computer access the teams were forced to initiate repairs manually. It was an excruciatingly slow process and would require hundreds of manhours.

Trip was utterly frustrated. He stood in the middle of engineering totally perplexed on how this could happen. He knew that the ship's other main systems like weapons, life support and sensors were virtually unaffected. Even the engine's warp core, conduits, injectors, nacelles and subcomponents seemed fine. It looked as though the alien vessel only disabled the ship's engine control systems. Most of the power relays and control panels on D Deck were knocked out. It would take days to repair everything. The worst part for Trip was that he was flying blind. While the engine's systems in general appeared fine, he had no way of knowing for sure. If he fired the warp reactor back up, for all he knew the thing could have a breach. He wouldn't be able to detect it until it was too late.

Trip moved over to the com panel. He wasn't looking forward to this. "Engineering to Bridge."

"Go ahead, Trip. I hope you have some good news for me," Captain Archer answered.

Trip couldn't help but notice the slight sound of desperation in the Captain's voice. "I'm sorry, Sir. I wish I did have good news. Truth is, I'm still not sure what I have down here. It seems that most of the ship's main systems are on-line. The engine appears to be operational but I have no way of knowing. The aliens somehow knocked out our entire engine control system. I can give you impulse back in a few minutes but I wouldn't recommend warp drive until I can come up with a way to monitor the reactor."

"How long will that take?" asked the Captain.

"I would guess about twenty minutes if I focus all our efforts. You have to understand Captain that I'm still not recommending anything above warp 2, 2.5 tops. Anything more and we won't be able to shut it down fast enough if something goes wrong."

"Understood. Put your team on it. I need you up here helping T'Pol. I want you both to determine the capabilities of that ship. Bridge, out!" The com line closed.

Trip stood for a few seconds and quickly put a plan together. He then yelled, "Lieutenant Burch!"

The engineer instantly turned and ran over to Trip. His eyes were wide and Trip could see that Burch's arm was badly injured. Trip looked closer at the wound and saw that Burch had at least a third degree burn extending from the man's elbow to his shoulder.

"Are you alright? You need to get that looked at," Trip said. The sickening smell of burnt flesh hit Trip like a title wave. The chaos that surrounded him began to go silent; his mind drifted back to another place. He found himself aboard a small Romulan ship with the burnt corpse of his colleague Phuong just a few meters away. The shock of seeing Phuong's lifeless body caused Trip to stumble backwards in horror.

"Sir?" Burch reached out to Trip as he began tumble back. Trip caught himself by grabbing onto the support frame of the ship's reactor housing. He managed to regain his balance and looked around the room. He realized quickly that he was aboard _Enterprise_ and not a Romulan ship.

"Sorry, I'm fine. I just…Anyway, I need you to pull everyone back. We need to fire up the reactor. The Captain wants to be able to go to warp," Trip said as he tried to compose himself.

Burch gave Trip a look of confusion, "Sir, we can't go to warp. So far, every junction box I've opened is fried mess."

"I know that," replied Trip. He couldn't blame the engineer for thinking he was out of his mind. He had to admit that he'd been acting like a crazy man for the last few weeks. "I need you to change out the reactor's main monitor. Replace any relays that you can access quickly. Route what you can to the main counsel. Initiate start-up and have the crew monitor the rest of the engine's system. At the first sign of trouble shut it down. I have to get to the bridge. I won't be able to monitor the reactor's condition from there so you'll have to do it. Make the call. If you think the risk is too high, shut it down. Do you understand? Let me know as soon as you're ready. If you want, I can have someone else take this. You need to get to sick bay."

"No Sir, I can handle it. My arm is fine. I'll see the Doc when we're done. I'll contact you when we're ready to start the engine." With that, Burch was off gathering his team and his tools.

Trip watched his crew work for just a second. He was very proud of them. He turned, left engineering and headed towards the bridge. As he made his way, he suddenly felt invigorated, a feeling that he hadn't had in a long time. _It feels good to be back._


	10. Chapter 10

10

_USS Enterprise_

Ten heavily armed MACOs arrived at the docking hatch just as the aliens blasted their way through the inner steel door. Five of the MACOs took up positions on both sides of the corridor about six meters from the hatch. Two of them lay prone on the floor, their weapons trained on the door. Two more assumed kneeling positions behind the ship's stanchions. Private Romero stood to the side, ready to through a concussion grenade once the signal was given. The rest of the team was a few meters behind the initial group. They held positions in the corridor to the right of the docking hatch. The team practiced this drill hundreds of times since coming aboard _Enterprise_.

Once the aliens came through the door, the first team would open fire. The route away from the door created a T-intersection. If the aliens managed to overpower the first team then that team could fall back and take up a defensive position in the corridor to the left. Meanwhile, the remaining MACOs would hold their position to the right. The aliens would have no choice but to move forward into the middle of the intersection. There, they would be caught in a cross fire between two groups of very determined MACOs. If by chance the alien force bypassed both teams, the entire section would be immediately sealed off. That was the plan anyway.

Lieutenant McKenzie had been part of first team assigned to _Enterprise_. Upon his death, Major Hayes had recommended to Lieutenant Reed that she be placed in command of the ship's MACOs. She was a young Corporal at the time and was very unsure of herself. When Major Hayes died, she like the rest of the team was heartbroken. It was an incredible blow to the unit's moral. Major Hayes was a strong leader and well respected. Every team member would proudly follow him into whatever situation he asked. Corporal McKenzie knew that she could never replace him. She still could not fathom why he selected her to take over the team. All she could do was to remember what he taught her and then find her own way as leader of the unit. It hadn't been easy. She was well aware that some of the members did not share Major Hayes' confidence in her abilities. The same could be said for several crew members as well, particularly Captain Archer. Although he never said it, Corporal McKenzie knew that he had concerns with her as leader. A surprising ally in her struggle to gain acceptance was Lieutenant Reed. He was the one that told her that Major Hayes had been killed and that she had been placed in command of the team. Early on, he checked on her and offered his assistance. At first, she resented this. It was no secret that Lieutenant Reed never really liked having the MACOs aboard. His fights with Major Hayes were legendary. She thought that this sudden show of concern for her and the team was Lieutenant Reed's way of taking control. However, as time pasted she realized that this was not the case. Though she never came to know his real motives, she did eventually come to view him as a trusted mentor, one that she desperately needed during those first few months. Since then though, she had grown into an extremely capable leader in her own right and was later promoted to the rank of Sergeant. After a year of proving her capabilities on countless missions, Captain Archer himself presented her with a field commission to the rank of Second Lieutenant. In attendance at the ceremony were crew members and her entire MACO team. Standing in the front row was Lieutenant Reed. It was one of her proudest days.

Positioned in the middle of the ship's corridor, her weapon ready for whatever alien happened to step through that docking hatch, her mind uncontrollably flashed back to early days under Major Hayes' command. She inhaled a quick gasp of breath as a slight pain hit her chest. She thought of him often.

_What would he do in this_ _situation? _She asked herself.

At moments like these, anxiously waiting, her mind uncontrollably slipped back to memories of her superior. _Wish us luck, Sir_.

She came to accept these thoughts as part of her ritual prior to combat. They focused her and give her a sense of calm during a chaotic situation.

Just at that moment the heavy steel door in front of them, exploded and fell with a defining thud onto the ship's deck platting. Smoke engulfed the corridor. The force of the intense blast caused the first team of MACOs to instinctively bury their heads and cover their eyes. Hot metal shards rained down on them. The second team tried to back further behind the stanchions and brace themselves against the ship's inner bulkhead. The metal beams provide little cover for the team. Lieutenant McKenzie noted this as something she needed to fix when they were done. She would request that proper protective barriers be installed so that her team could defend itself.

Within a split second her mind was back on the task at hand. As, the smoke dissipated Lieutenant McKenzie shifted her position and was able to peer around the stanchion in order to better access the status of the forward team as well as determine the enemy situation. She was able to quickly take accountability of everyone, they all seemed a little rattled but ready. As she looked towards the door she saw the outlines of at least three humanoid forms advancing upon the team's position. She knew that the team would not open fire until she gave word. She hesitated, wanting to allow the aliens to move further into the corridor. This would lessen risk of them taking cover in the hatchway or retreating back to their ship. It also gave her the opportunity to determine the number of enemy aliens coming aboard.

The MACOs waited in position silently. The sound of the explosion and residual after effects had quieted. The corridor was now silent except for the sounds of the advancing aliens. MACO teams were trained to operate silently at all times. This allowed each member to use all of his or her senses to assess a situation. They communicated through the use of hand and arm signals when needed. This was normally a form of redundancy or to adjust actions when the situation changed. Each member knew instinctively what the other members of the team were doing. They worked and lived together for many years and in doing so, they were closer to each other than they were to their own families.

Lieutenant McKenzie glanced over to Private Romero. His arm was raised over his head, ready to toss the concussion grenade. His eyes were fixed on her. She raised her arm in his direction, her hand clenched tight into a fist. She was telling him to wait. He acknowledged with a slight nod but did not look away from her.

She waited for what seemed an eternity but was actually less than a few seconds. The three forms continued to advance but then suddenly stopped. She saw their eyes widen and in that instant, she extended her fingers. This gave Private Romero the signal he had been waiting for. The grenade sailed over the MACO's heads as well as the aliens. Both MACO teams took cover as the grenade landed at the doorway. The aliens watched it fly over their heads and fall to the floor. The first alien turned around to face the MACOs but they had disappeared. Confusion crossed his face first followed by a look of recognition. The alien opened his mouth as if he was about to yell something. Just then, another defining sound and shock wave reverberated through the corridor. The three aliens flew forward and landed within a few meters of the first team.

Lieutenant McKenzie peered out to see the group of aliens lying unconscious on the floor. Looking at the hatchway, she waited again. _Patience_, she told herself.

She had no idea how many aliens were still be in the docked vessel. Moving her team forward into a confined enemy ship was not a good tactic. She waited. Suddenly a large phase pulse ripped down the center of the corridor. She gave the order for the forward team to return fire. Each member began to fire and would then move slightly as to prevent the enemy from locking onto their positions. The team was firing blind; they couldn't see were the phase pulse was coming from. Then another and a third pulse joined the fight. The corridor was too small to allow for the team to maneuver and take up secured positions. Seeing that her team was vulnerable, Lieutenant McKenzie ordered them back and to take up secondary positions in the corridor across from her. The second team opened suppressive fire so that the first team could move.

McKenzie opened her communicator and yelled into it, "First team is falling back, three aliens down, no factor! At least three more still inside the docking port and advancing on our position!"

"Roger, standing by to secure that section! Do you need additional support?" Lieutenant Reed replied.

"Not at this time," McKenzie replied. Hearing Reed's voice calmed her nerves a bit.

On the bridge Malcolm stared at his com panel, his head down.

"Mr. Reed?" Captain Archer asked as he looked over at his security officer.

Malcolm didn't rely. He hadn't heard the Captain.

"Malcolm!" Archer shouted as he took a step forward towards the security consol. Everyone in the room looked over at the two men.

Caught by surprise, Malcolm sat straight in his chair, "Sorry Sir, yes…the first MACO team is moving back towards its secondary position. They are attempting to block the alien force. If the teams are overpowered, Julie… I mean Lieutenant McKenzie will give the request and I will seal off the section." Malcolm dropped his gaze; his face slightly flushed with embarrassment.

Archer couldn't help but be a little surprised by Malcolm's use of Lieutenant McKenzie's first name. It was very out of character for him. Lieutenant Reed was usually the poster boy for professionalism and decorum. Now, he seemed flustered and somewhat distracted. Archer gave a slight smile that only Malcolm could see.

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Archer said leaning into the consol so that others couldn't overhear. The rest of the bridge officers turned their attention back to their assigned tasks just as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Back in the corridor, the second team provided covering fire as Lieutenant McKenzie moved forward. She took up position behind her first team and motioned for them to move back. She and second team covered their withdrawal. Once the first team was in place, Lieutenant McKenzie backed out of the corridor firing as she went. Before the first team could assist in coving her movement, a phase pulse from an alien weapon shot through her right upper thigh. Her leg buckled almost immediately, sending her down hard onto the floor. Her mind did not register the blast or that she had been shot. As she fell her thoughts raced, _I'm falling, keep your weapon up, keep firing, get up, I tripped, get up!_

Lieutenant McKenzie lay on her back, her weapon still in her hands. She looked up and saw a dazzlingly array of green and orange phase blasts. They narrowly missed hitting her. She was trapped on the floor. She couldn't get back on her feet for fear of being hit by crossfire. The only way to get clear was to crawl back to her team. She rolled over onto her side, searing pain instantly shot to her brain. She clenched every muscle in her body and let out a soft wince then bit her lower lip. Only then did she realize that she had been hit. She took her weapon in one hand and flung it above her head. The momentum rolled her body over to her stomach and with her left leg she pushed her herself forward sliding along the deck plating. Instinctively she brought her right leg up to her side in order to push further along the flooring. Nothing happened, her body didn't move. Confused she looked down and saw that her leg was not bent to her side as she thought it to be. Instead, her leg remained straight and was now covered in blood. She pulled at it but it wouldn't move. Looking towards her team she saw that she had only a couple meters at most to crawl but it she wasn't sure how she would manage. She threw her weapon onto her back and slung its strap over her head. In one motion she bent her left leg up to her side and grabbed at the flooring above her head with both hands. Pulling herself forward caused her to wince in pain. She pushed aside the pain and repeated the movement. It was excruciating. Exhausted, she put her head down and tried to catch her breath. Suddenly, the corridor was very quiet. She looked up at her team, they were still firing. Their faces were skewed. She extended her right arm, willing herself to move forward. She felt a numbing feeling move up her spine. She put her head back down as darkness enveloped her peripheral vision. She turned her head to the side knowing that she was about to lose consciousness. Staring back at her was one of the aliens that were incapacitated by the concussion grenade. Their eyes locked on each other. Neither took recognition of the other. It was as if they both knew that the other was helpless to be of much threat. She looked over at the other two aliens. They weren't moving. _They aren't the same species, _she closed her eyes.

Private Romero kneeling behind a stanchion and was closest to his team leader, who now lay unconscious less than a meter from him. He looked up at the MACO across the corridor and nodded. The MACO began to fire in rapid succession. In one quick movement, Romero leaned forward, grabbed McKenzie's arm and swung her body behind him towards the rest of the team. Another team member bent down and pulled McKenzie's body towards the right corridor. The rest of the team withdrew back to their positions to the right and left of the docking corridor. They moved McKenzie to the rear of the team. Someone quickly applied a tourniquet to her leg. The rest of the team took cover and waited with weapons ready.

An alien suddenly appeared in the in the middle of the T-intersection. His weapon was drawn but he did not fire. He turned his head to the right then to the left. The alien looked directly at the two teams of MACOs with almost a confused or shocked look on his face. Nine armed MACOs were now on either side of him. He quickly realized that he was outnumbered and that this ship was not as vulnerable as they first thought. In a split second he turned quickly and retreated back to the hatchway. The MACOs systematically paired off from either side of the corridor and followed. Private Romero noticed that the three fallen aliens were now gone. As the team approached the outer docking hatch, they heard it seal with a loud thud. The alien ship immediately disengaged its locking clamps and began its escape.

"Sir, all the aliens have retreated back to their ship and seem to have departed," Romero reported into the communicator that he took from Lieutenant McKenzie.

"Understood, area is secure," replied Malcolm. He couldn't help but notice that Julie did not report the status of the mission but Private Romero had instead. With the next transmission it all became very clear.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: Please take time to review the story. We have now established some new characters and set the original cast back into their roles. Again, the intent with this story was to continue on after the last ENT book, The Romulan War; Beneath the Raptor's Wing. I do make references to some situations in that and previous books. It is my assumption that most readers have read the series. I therefore do not provide much background information.

11

_USS Enterprise_

"Sir, both teams and all weapons are accounted for. We have one casualty. Please advise sick bay that we are on our way to their location," Private Romero reported to Lieutenant Reed.

Malcolm's stomach lurched up into his chest. His mouth suddenly became dry, "Stay where you are, a medical crew will be there in just a few minutes." His mind was racing. He wanted nothing more than to jump out of his seat and run down to be with Julie_. Is she all right? Is she alive?_

"Sir, we are already en route, we will be in sick bay in approximately forty-five seconds. Romero, out!"

At that moment Trip arrived on the bridge. As he moved across the room he noticed the Captain standing near Malcolm. Both looked distracted, as if something dire had happened, although, Trip couldn't imagine anything worse than the current situation. He quickly took up a position at the engineering station.

Archer caught a glimpse of Trip as he walked behind Malcolm. "Trip, the aliens have retreated back aboard their ship. Get as much information as you can, determine their weapon capabilities and anything that will help us find out what they used to disrupt our engines. T'Pol can help. I will be down in sick bay." Captain Archer headed towards the turbo lift and turned back.

"Malcolm?" Archer looked at his security officer, indicating that he should join him.

"T'Pol, you have the bridge. Let the aliens go but if they lock weapons on us you have permission to return fire. Otherwise, just try and figure out who the hell they are." Both the Captain and Malcolm entered the lift and the doors slid closed.

The first MACO team stayed behind at the docking port in order to secure the location. Private Romero and the second team attempted to stabilize Lieutenant McKenzie the best they could before gently lifting her and quickly moving her through the corridors towards sick bay. She had lost a lot of blood. Her only hope was to get her to the doctor as quickly as possible. Even with the tourniquet applied to her leg, she was still bleeding. A trail of blood followed the team as they ran.

Within seconds the doors to sick bay slid open. Dr. Phlox had received the report of a critically injured MACO. His team was standing ready for their arrival. As the group pushed through the doors, Phlox moved quickly to one side in order to make room for the large figures moving towards him. He couldn't immediately determine who was injured. The MACOs were grouped together so tightly that they seemed to move as one unit. Fluidly, they enveloped the exam table then slowly stepped back to reveal Lieutenant McKenzie. She was unconscious but alive. Phlox and his team immediately went to work trying to stabilize her and determine the exact extent of her injuries. The MACOs slowly backed away but did not leave the room, their eyes fixed on the doctor's every movement. Each flanked the entry door with their weapons still at the ready like sentries holding guard. They were covered in blood and grime from the day's battle. They were an intimidating sight.

Within a few minutes both the Captain and Lieutenant Reed walked through the door. Reed's face was noticeably pale. It was obvious that both men had seen the trail of blood leading into sick bay.

"What is the status doc?" asked Archer. Malcolm's eyes immediately fixated on the body lying on the table directly in front of them.

The doctor, who was busily working on his patient, looked up. He was wearing a surgical gown and like the MACOs was covered with blood. "Ah Captain, I am glad you're here. I need to speak with you."

The doctor handed his assistant a medical instrument and lead the Captain to a corner of sick bay.

"How is she, Doc?" quietly asked Archer.

"Well…I expect her to survive. The wound to her leg is very significant. I have begun to repair the major damage…" The doctor's voice trailed off as he shifted his eyes downward. A chill ran up Archer's spine. The doctor was normally extremely confident in his abilities. This hesitation was not like him.

"What's the problem? Does she have other injuries?" asked Archer.

"No, the problem is with the damage to her leg. As you well know a great deal of progress has been made towards being able to repair partial and total amputations…"

"Wait, amputation? Did she lose her leg?" asked Archer, very concerned.

"As I said, great advances have been made in the area of partial amputations. Most patients experience a full recovery within a year of an incident." Archer couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable the doctor seemed.

"What do you mean, Doc? She will recover then?" asked Archer, trying to understand the scope of the problem.

"She will survive but whether or not she regains any use of her leg depends on you," said Phlox.

"Me? I'm sorry Doc but now you've completely lost me. You're the doctor. How can I possibly help her?" asked Archer.

"Captain, unfortunately I do not have the resources nor the experience to perform the complex procedure needed to repair this type of damage. There are wonderful experts in this field on Denobula. The Vulcans have also made great advances in this area. My recommendation therefore is to transport Lieutenant McKenzie to Vulcan as quickly as possible to minimize further degradation of the damaged limb."

Archer's mind raced; trying to digest the information he was just given. "Doctor, are you saying that if we don't leave now for Vulcan, she could lose the use of her leg?"

"Not just the use of her leg. I am afraid that there is very little that I can do. I will have to complete the amputation. I'm sorry, Captain." Doctor Phlox turned, walked back over to his patient and began to check her vitals.

Archer quickly followed, speaking loudly, "Doctor, there must be something you can do. All your science degrees, all this equipment, the collection of zoo animals in here and you mean to tell me that you can't help her?" Everyone's eyes immediately shot towards the men. The feeling in the room suddenly became even more tense.

"Sir, I'm sorry but as I said her injury is significant and I do not have the expertise needed to repair the damage. The type of weapon used vaporized a good portion of the connective tissue and bone. Synthetic components are needed and the nerves from her upper leg would essentially be re-routed to compensate for those she lost. Microprocessors inserted around the damaged area will control movement and give her back most of the sensation to that portion of the leg. The follow-up treatment is also very complex with months and sometimes years of physical therapy." Both men looked down at Lieutenant McKenzie. She was stable but still unconscious.

After a few seconds, Archer let out a long breath and asked, "Besides taking her to Vulcan, what are the other options?"

"If she doesn't get proper treatment soon, as I said I will have no option but to amputate the leg," replied Phlox.

"Amputate? Sir!" Malcolm interrupted with a sound of shock in his voice.

The Captain looked at Malcolm and suddenly remembered his presence and that of the MACOs in the room.

"Doc, what is her prognosis if you amputate?" asked Archer.

"Captain, it would be best if she were taken to Vulcan, the doctors there…" Phlox replied but was quickly shut down by Archer.

"I understand that Doctor but we have a mission to complete. As much as I would like to, I can't turn this ship towards Vulcan. It would take at least a month to get there. We don't have that kind of time. You're just going to have to do your best, Doc."

"I understand," Phlox acknowledged. He then hesitated but added, "There have been great advancements made in the development of prosthetics as well. With some therapy she should be able to regain most of her abilities." Phlox tried to hide his disappointment and sound as positive as he could for the sake of the crew standing around him.

With that Archer turned and headed towards the door. He stopped and stood next to Lieutenant Reed, placing a hand on the man's shoulder, "I'm sorry, Malcolm."

Malcolm, looking completely distraught stepped forward and took hold of Julie's hand. The Captain walked out of sick bay followed by Private Romero who ushered the rest of his team out as well.

"T'Pol, the ship is moving off! Do you have anything on them?" shouted Trip across the bridge.

"No, but they do not appear to be powering up their weapons," replied T'Pol as she scanned sensors.

"Our sensors don't seem to be able to penetrate their shielding. Damn it!" Trip added angrily and slammed his fist down onto the console.

"It appears not," T'Pol relied flatly. Trip shot her a look of irritation. _She does that on purpose just to screw with me._

"Sir, I have impulse and helm control is back online. Do you want me to follow?" interjected Travis.

"Stay within sensor range if you can. We need to try and take more scans to find out how they managed to disable the engine control systems," replied Trip.

"Belay that order." T'Pol stated, overriding Trip's command. "We already determined that our sensors can not penetrate their shielding. Pursuing them may only agitate them further and escalate the situation. We have no idea of their weapons capabilities. It would be reckless to pursue them," added T'Pol.

"Agitate them! Who the hell cares! They just tried to board and shot one of the MACOs! The Captain told us to find out their capabilities. We have them on the run so let's take advantage and strike while they're in retreat." Trip was fuming.

"The Captain also told us to not to fire on them unless they initiate by locking weapons," T'Pol said in a calm voice. "Resume our previous heading, Lieutenant Mayweather."

Just as Trip was about to protest the doors of the turbo lift slid open. "What'sbuyhb the status?" Captain Archer asked as he exited.

T'Pol took a step towards him and quickly responded. She wasn't about to allow Trip to interject his opinion regarding her decisions. "Sir, the alien ship has departed; our sensors were unable to penetrate their shielding."

"Have you set a pursuit course?" asked Archer.

T'Pol suddenly felt the skin on her face flash warm. Did she make the wrong decision? "No, Sir. We are resuming our original course."

Trip looked up from his workstation with a slight smile on his face.

"Good, we don't know if they have friends out here. The last thing we need to get into a fight so close to Romulan territory. We sent them running for now. Analyze the sensor information that we did get and also find out what the MACOs know. Maybe they were able to identify the species. Make sure the crew stays vigilant, obviously this isn't Kansas. Trip, get back down to engineering. Try to determine what the hell happened to our engine and see if there is a way to prevent it next time. We are going to need warp so your priority is getting that back online." With that the Captain exited the bridge and headed towards his ready room.

T'Pol sat back down at her station. Without even looking in her direction, Trip quickly walked across the bridge and entered the turbo lift. His anger was easily felt by the rest of the crew.

Captain Archer sat at his desk and began to review the Vulcan database. He was searching for information regarding this sector of space. He found nothing. _Apparently, the Vulcan's don't spend much time out here._ As he was about to send an updated report to Admiral Gardner the door chime rang.

"Enter," replied Archer.

A distraught looking Lieutenant Reed walked in.

"Lieutenant, what can I do for you?" Archer asked as he motioned for his Security Officer to have a seat.

"Thank you sir, but no. I wanted to ask a favor." Captain Archer suddenly felt empathy for the man standing in front of his desk. It was obvious that he was in a great deal of pain.

"I'll try Malcolm are you sure you don't want to sit down?" asked Archer.

"I just wanted to ask that you reconsider your decision in not departing for Vulcan," Malcolm blurted out in a rapid fire tone.

Archer sat back in his chair. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond to such a plea. "Malcolm, you know I can't do that. I understand your feelings for…"

"Then allow me to take her. Once we get to Damar IV, I will find transportation to Vulcan myself," Malcolm interrupted.

Surprised, Archer stood and walked around from behind his desk. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder, "It's obvious you care a great deal for Lieutenant McKenzie but I am not about to leave you stranded on a planet we know nothing about."

"Sir, I will get her to Vulcan," Malcolm pleaded.

Archer walked back around behind his desk and stood looking out the window. He took a few seconds to contemplate his response_. This is not going to be easy._

"Malcolm, the answer is no. She's critically ill. You have no way of taking care of her and no means of getting her to Vulcan. Not to mention, we were just attacked. Who knows what other dangerous species are out here. It's better that she stays were she is. Dr. Phlox will do everything he can for her. I realize this is not the answer you wanted but we all know the risk we take by being out here. If the situation was different, I would have Travis set a course for Vulcan at max warp. Unfortunately, our systems are still damaged from the attack. All we can do now is to let Dr. Phlox treat Lieutenant McKenzie the best he can. I am confident that she will be fine and make adjustments as time goes on. She's strong; I doubt this will slow her down at all. Now, go back to sick bay. Take some time and be there when she wakes up. I'm sure she will be glad to have you there."

Malcolm's heart was pounding. He wanted more than anything to scream and yell at the Captain. _How could he sit and do nothing? _ With that Malcolm turned and left. He knew that the Captain was right on some level but this was Julie. _I have to do something to help her. She doesn't deserve this._


	12. Chapter 12

12

Dr Phlox gently pulled back the curtain that enclosed and provided privacy around Lieutenant McKenzie's bed. It had been hours since the attack and sickbay was now calm and quiet. The lights throughout the ship as well as sickbay were dim, giving the sense of nighttime. This allowed the human crew to maintain their circadian sleep cycle more effectively while traveling in space for long periods of time. Phlox found the "nighttime" to be the most peaceful. Normally, he took comfort during these times but tonight however, had been anything but.

Phlox quietly walked over to the bank of monitors in order to check her vital signs. Looking down, he noticed Lieutenant Reed sleeping in a chair with his head resting on the edge of the bed. Malcolm had been in sick bay all afternoon and evening.

Phlox turned toward the bed and lifted the sheet that covered Lieutenant McKenzie's injured leg. He suddenly felt a wave of helplessness. He knew that his skills were severely insufficient with this type of injury. Guilt racked him. He stood staring at the missing leg. _Barbaric… simply barbaric, having to cut off the leg of a being_, the thought pierced through his mind.

Suddenly, Lieutenant Reed lifted his head. "Is something wrong, Doctor?"

Phlox returned the sheet as if he was trying to hide the missing appendage. "Everything appears to be…going as expected."

"Thank you, Doctor," Malcolm said as he turned and looked at Julie. His hand moved up to her forehead. He gently pushed back her hair and let his hand come to rest at the top of her head.

Guilt hit Phlox again, "Thank you is not needed, Lieutenant. I owe Lieutenant McKenzie an apology. I wish…I should have been able to do more."

"I'm sure you did everything you could, Doctor. She's strong, she'll be fine." Malcolm's words seemed strained as if he were saying them more to himself than to the Doctor. The truth was that Malcolm wondered if things would ever be fine again.

"You should take a break. Go get something to eat. I will call for you if there are any changes," Phlox pressed.

"I don't want to leave her. No, I'll stay, she might need me," Malcolm insisted.

"Lieutenant, she isn't going to wake for another few hours. She needs to rest." Phlox gently reached to put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder.

Malcolm looked down at Julie then slowly stood, "You'll call me if something happens?"

"Of course I will; now go, Lieutenant." Phlox did his best to reassure Malcolm by giving him a warm gentle smile.

Malcolm looked down at Julie one last time. He didn't want to leave her but he knew there was nothing he could do. The doctor was right, she needed to rest.

"I'll be back first thing in the morning," Malcolm said as he stood and walked out of sickbay.

Malcolm sat staring at his plate of uneaten food. The mess hall was empty except for him. It was very early morning.

The door slid open and Trip entered. His head was bent down, buried in a handheld display. He walked over to the beverage dispenser and filled his large mug with coffee. He turned to leave but then noticed a very grim looking Malcolm sitting alone.

"Malcolm, what are you doing here? Couldn't sleep?" Trip walked over and sat down directly across from Malcolm. He continued to review the diagnostic information while taking a long sip of the hot coffee. It was a long minute before he finally noticed that Malcolm hadn't replied to his question. Trip glanced up and was shocked to see the state of his friend.

"Geez! What happened? You look like hell." Trip had no idea that Malcolm had spent all night in sickbay. Malcolm hadn't bothered to change and his uniform was still splattered with blood. His face was pale and sunken. All Malcolm could do was to just look silently at Trip. He didn't have the energy to explain. Yet, a feeling of confusion entered his mind. _How could he not know what happened? He was on the bridge during the attack. How could he not know?_

Trip set down his handheld, "Malcolm, are you OK?"

"No, I've been in sickbay all afternoon." Malcolm realized that Trip had no idea about Julie and how she was almost killed. He suddenly felt very irritated.

"If this is the best that Doc could do for you, I hope you get your money back." Trip gave a slight smile. Malcolm didn't return the look.

"I've been with Julie…Lieutenant McKenzie! She almost died in that attack!" Malcolm added a slight huff, rolled his eyes and turned his head away from Trip.

Trip's mouth dropped open. "I'm sorry, Malcolm…I had …no idea." Shocked, he seemed to stumble over his words.

Malcolm however wasn't about to make things easy on Commander Tucker. "Of course you didn't. Why would you? All you're concerned about lately is yourself."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Trip shouted back.

Malcolm didn't turn back to face his friend, "Nothing, just forget it."

They both sat in silence, neither had the energy to continue the fight. It was Trip who finally spoke. "I'm sorry, Malcolm. You're right; I haven't been the best friend lately. It's just that coming back here…well, it probably wasn't the best choice."

Malcolm still didn't look up at Trip nor did he reply. He didn't feel like trying to cheer up Mr. Charles Tucker anymore. It was just too exhausting. At this moment Malcolm did have to agree with Trip. Maybe he was right; maybe coming back wasn't the best choice.

Finally, Malcolm slowly turned to look at his friend. "You know, ever since you came back everyone on this ship has been walking on egg shells around you." The words fell like heavy rocks. Malcolm's eyes felt like sharp daggers to Trip.

"What the hell is all this about?" Trip shot back.

"This is about…other people besides you, Trip." Malcolm was just as quick and just as angry now.

"Malcolm, I have no idea what has set you off tonight but I've had enough. I have work to do." Trip stood to leave. Malcolm jolted out of his seat, the chair falling backward onto the floor.

"Why? Can't you handle someone telling you that you've been an ass ever since you came back?" Malcolm said with a slight smirk on his face.

"An ass, really? I think _you're_ being the ass. I asked what was the matter and now yo're acting crazy. Fine, you know what? Just go back to sulking alone, I'll be in engineering." Trip picked up his coffee cup and started to walk towards the door to leave.

Malcolm's heart was pounding, "Exactly, walk off. You only care about yourself anyway. You don't care about me, T'Pol or Julie; everything is about you. T'Pol and I risked our lives and careers to save your butt from those damn Romulans on Taugus III. Do you remember that they had a disruptor pointed at your head? Did you thank us? No. Now we have to put up with all your moody crap. We should have just left you there."

Trip spun around and yelled," Hey, I never asked for you and T'Pol to come find me. I had everything under control until you both came charging in like some damn cavalry."

Malcolm flew over the chairs that were innocently caught between him and Trip, "You son-of-a-bitch!" Malcolm threw his arm around Trip's neck, causing both men to fall backwards onto the deck plating. It happened within a tenth of a second. Coffee splashed over the two men. Caught off guard, Trip had no time to react. The back of his head struck the floor, which left him a bit stunned. Malcolm jostled to get on top of Trip. Kneeling over him, Malcolm was able to land a solid punch to the left side of Trip's jaw. Blood from Trip's mouth spewed across the floor. The momentum of the punch caused Malcolm to be thrown off balance. This allowed Trip to maneuver his left foot under Malcolm's lower rib cage. With one quick motion, Trip sent Malcolm flying through the air. He landed hard on the table nearest the doorway but his momentum caused him to slide across the surface and sent him finally crashing to the floor. He landed on his side, the air completely knocked out of his lungs. He wasn't moving.

Trip managed to get back on his feet. He walked over to Malcolm pushing tipped over chairs out of his way. Trip bent down and saw that his friend was breathing. He stuck out his hand in order to help Malcolm up. Malcolm took hold of Trip's wrist, winced in pain and grabbed his. "I think you broke my ribs!"

"I had to protect myself. You're lucky that's all I did. What the hell were you trying to do, Malcolm?" Just as Trip steadied himself to help the injured man stand up, Malcolm swung his leg around and caught the back of Trip's knee, causing him to fall face first into an overturned chair. Malcolm got to his feet and stood over Trip. "I'm trying to knock you on your bloody ass!"

Trip rolled over onto his back. He instantly felt his right eye begin to swell. Malcolm took a few steps back as Trip worked to get back on his feet. Trip, lunging forward caught Malcolm square in the midsection. Both men crashed into the food display. Fists flew wildly as neither man was ready to give up. Eventually though, exhaustion took hold. They stood glaring at each other, both inhaling deeply like caged animals. Blood and sweat ran down their faces. Trip's jaw was starting to turn a shade of dark purple and his eye was now swollen closed. Malcolm began to feel the excruciating pain of his broken rib and began to wonder if he broke his hand as well.

"You don't look so good," Trip said with a slight smirk and laugh. "Ouch!" he winced and raised his hand to his jaw.

"I can say the same thing about you," Malcolm replied as he bent over trying to catch his breath.

A few seconds passed as they stared at each other. Finally, Trip began to laugh.

"What's so damn funny?" asked Malcolm.

"Two officers going at each other like dunks in a bar fight. Do you suppose we should clean this up before the Captain finds out?" Trip moved to pick up a tipped chair.

"Let's just keep this our little secret, agreed?" Malcolm extended his hand to Trip.

"Agreed, though I should throw you in the brig for striking a senior officer. Now help me out here and then you can tell me all about this girlfriend of yours." Trip took Malcolm's had and smiled at his friend.

Malcolm opened his mouth as if he were going to protest Trip's comments but decided it was pointless. He just smiled instead and slapped Trip on the shoulder. Both men began to laugh as Trip recoiled in pain.

Captain Archer was summoned to the bridge. As he exited the turbo lift he was instantly greeted by T'Pol, "Captain, we have entered orbit around Damar IV. I had Lieutenant Sato contact the local government regarding our presence."

"Did you tell them why we're here?" asked Archer.

"No, I didn't feel that would be entirely wise at this point. Initially, they seemed very welcoming but I am afraid that has changed a bit." T'Pol returned her attention to the instrument bank on her console. Archer glanced at her with a look of slight confusion.

"Sir, we're being hailed. It's the Damarian President," Hoshi reported.

"Open a channel and bring up the view screen." A female looking alien appeared before him. Her hair was intricately woven with colorful strands throughout. Her skin was a copper color and seemed to have a luminescence about it. Archer moved to the center of the bridge. "This is Captain Jonathan Archer of the Starship Enterprise. We are hoping to locate someone and would be grateful for your assistance."

"I am Governor Loczar. How can I help you, Captain?"

Archer glanced over at T'Pol who was still studying her console. He could see that she was not going to clue him in on her earlier comment. He was also unsure how to approach the subject of them wanting to locate a specific human. Remembering how Trip transformed into a Romulan, Archer had no idea if Claire Dawson even looked human anymore. He felt that it would be too risky to just come out and ask.

"We are interested in hiring on extra security for our movements within this system. Perhaps you could recommend someone?"

"I see, the routes in and around Damar can be very dangerous. There are several individuals that may be able to help. You are welcome to inquire. I would recommend visiting the port city. Many trade operators work from there." The view screen went blank.

Archer turned towards Hoshi, "Scan for human bio-signs."

"Sir, there are thousands of people it will take a while."

"Do what you can, Hoshi. I want you to join the away team. We will depart in one hour."

"T'pol, find Trip and Malcolm. Tell them to prep a shuttle pod. They'll be joining Hoshi and me."

Dr. Phlox heard the doors of sick bay slide open. He came out from behind the curtain that surrounded Lieutenant McKenzie's bed and was met by Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed. He was suddenly taken aback by their appearance, "Come sit down! I'll need to examine you both. What happened? Were we attacked again?"

Both men looked at each other, embarrassed. Trip finally spoke, "No, Doc. We had a misunderstanding that's all."

"Lieutenant Reed, you have a broken rib! What kind of misunderstanding was it?" Neither replied and Phlox turned his hand scanner to Trip's eye socket. "Your eye is bruised and swollen but seems to have no other injury." He then turned back to Malcolm, "I will fuse your rib but you will be in pain for the next week or so."

"Thanks, Doc." Trip stood as if to leave.

"Not just yet, Commander." Phlox had a serious tone in his voice.

"As you know, my job is to ensure that the crew of this ship remains fit for duty." Phlox began to ready equipment needed to mend Malcolm's broken rib.

"We're fine, just a broken bone and a couple bruises. You said that yourself, Doc." Trip tried to make light of the situation but got the feeling that Phlox was not.

The doctor looked sternly at them. "I realize that both of you have been under a great deal of stress lately. However, I cannot condone the continued consumption of alcohol and these physical altercations. If this continues, I'm afraid that I will have to inform the Captain."

Malcolm and Trip looked as if they had just been reprimanded by their fathers. They kept their eyes focused on the floor, knowing that the doctor was right. They had taken his kindness for granted and placed him in an impossible situation.

Trip finally spoke, "It won't happen again, Doc." The words sounding empty even to Trip.

"Yes, well…I'm sure it won't, Commander. Please, if you feel that things are affecting you in such a manner again you must come see me. If you do not and something happens, I will be left with no choice but to relieve you from your duties." Phlox took a deep breath and finished setting Malcolm's rib.

Once finished, Malcolm turned his attention to the curtain that surrounded Julie's bed. "How is she?"

Phlox answered, "She was awake earlier. You can go see her if you wish."

Malcolm walked towards Julie's bed. She appeared to be sleeping but was restless. She opened her eyes and saw Malcolm standing near her feet. It took her a minute to register where she was. She seemed somewhat confused by the sight of him. "What happened to you? Did the aliens do that? Are you hurt?"

Malcolm realized that his face must be a mess. Trip did manage to get in a few hard shots. Not to mention his uniform was still covered with Julie's blood. "No, it doesn't matter. How are you feeling? You must remember them boarding."

"Yes, I remember getting shot and lying in the corridor. I don't know anything after that. The Doctor told me about my leg." She turned her face away from Malcolm. She didn't want him to see her this way. Tears began to swell in her eyes.

Malcolm didn't know what to say. He knew she was upset and must be disappointed by losing her leg. He wanted to tell her that it didn't matter that he was grateful that she was alive but the right words seemed to leave this mind. "Were you able to identify the species that attacked us?" _What a stupid thing to ask, why did I say that?_ _She must think I am a bloody insensitive bastard. _Malcolm knew that the Captain Archer wanted information the aliens but he couldn't believe that he asked the question now. His heart sunk.

Julie turned to face him. She thought about the question for a second and retraced her actions during the attack. "I remember when they came aboard. I didn't recognize them…they all looked…different."

"It doesn't matter. You should rest. We can talk about this another time, when you feel up to it." Malcolm tried his best to change the subject. The last thing he wanted to do was to upset her. It was obvious that she was confused by what happened.

"No, I'm fine. You must think I'm an idiot. I can't even tell who was attacking us," Julie said but looked away from him again. She was disappointed in herself.

Malcolm moved quickly to the side of her bed. Without hesitation, he grasped her hand, "No, I'm the idiot. I never should have asked about what happened. It's too soon."

"I tell everyone on my team to pay attention to details, to prepare for the worst. I didn't do either," Julie couldn't help herself she was in full tears now. "Look at me! I failed. I put myself in a situation and let this happen to me. I'm supposed to know better…to be better," her voice trailed off.

Malcolm couldn't believe what he was seeing. Her reaction made him recoil slightly. Again, he was at a loss for words. He had never seen her like this before and was totally unprepared. Normally she was so strong, so confident.

The intercom sounded in the other room and caused Malcolm to immediately let go of Julie's hand. "T'Pol to Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed."

Trip moved over to the communications panel near the doorway, "Tucker, go ahead."

"We have entered orbit around Damar IV. The captain requests that you both accompany him down to the surface within the hour," T'Pol reported.

"We're on our way," responded Trip. "Malcolm, we have to go."

Malcolm turned to Julie before leaving her side, "I'm sorry, I'll come by later."


	13. Chapter 13

13

Romii Prison Camp,

Near Romulus

Epohh stood outside Director Dac'Quare's living quarters. He faced the door and kept his head down as several guards passed behind him. He didn't want a confrontation as it would become loud and wake the director who Epohh hoped was still asleep. As he predicted the guards failed to notice him.

His ability to fade into the background of the prison served him well during his mission. He was astonished daily by the lack of interest that the guards paid both to him and to his comings and goings. Rarely, did they question his activities or presence. Having become the director's slave however revolting it was, gave Epohh complete access to all parts of the prison.

Slowly, he opened the heavy wooden door and stood once again listening for the room's occupant. Hearing nothing he silently moved to the bed chamber. It too was quiet. Epohh let out a long breath. A feeling of relief escaped his lungs. He turned and closed the door to the inner room then walked over to the bed. The disgusting smell of sweat filled his nostrils. Epohh's stomach lurched up into his throat. Thoughts of his activities with the director not just two hours before flashed in his mind. The memory caused Epohh to sway and stumble. Before his knees gave out completely, he grabbed the side of the bed to steady himself but it was too late. He fell loudly to the cold floor; his stomach struggled to keep its contents restrained.

The door to the adjacent bathroom flew open. Dac'Quare came running out, his weapon drawn. He stood in the doorway, naked from the waist up. His eyes caught sight of the small incapacitated figure on the floor, "What the hell are you doing? Have you slithered back for more?" Dac'Quare laughed in a low growl of a voice. He set his pistol on the table next to the bed and hovered over Epohh as if contemplating the fate of his prey. Epohh tried to melt further into the flooring. He wanted nothing more than to escape this room.

"Get up!" Dac'Quare bent and grabbed Epohh by the back of the shirt. He threw the pale looking slave face down onto the bed. The rancid smell once again overpowered Epohh and again caused his stomach to lurch. The filthy bed coverings smothered his face. He tried to raise his head above them.

Dac'Quare stepped forward and forced Epohh's head back down into the bed. "No! You will stay right where you are." Dac'Quare bent forward, is massive weight resting on Epohh. Dac'Quare put his mouth next to the slave's ear and spoke is a slow breathy groan, "I have other things to attend to but when I come back I want you in my bed."

In one quick motion Dac'Quare stood, grabbed a shirt from off the floor and left the room. Epohh didn't move until he heard the loud slam of the outer door and a series of metallic clickingsounds. The noises were familiar to Epohh and filled him with dread each time he heard them. The director had just locked the door, entrapping the slave inside. Epohh knew what would be expected of him upon his master's return. The dark thought almost took hold of his entire being. He forced himself to get off the bed. In doing so, his eyes if subconsciously came to rest on the table next to the bed. Presenting itself as a gift was the director's pistol. Epohh's mind jumped. _He forgot his pistol! Was it on purpose, a test maybe? Was he actually that stupid to leave a pistol? _Epohh reached for it but stopped just short, his mind suddenly remembered the purpose for his returning to this chamber.

Epohh dropped back down to the floor but this time reach far under the bed. He dislodged a floorboard and pulled out a wooden box. Epohh smiled as he opened it. _He locked the door! How fortunate for me._ Epohh took out a small communications device and began to set a specific frequency. He chose this location to hide the device because he knew the guards would never dare enter. No one would suspect. It was almost the perfect scenario. Epohh's smiled faded, in the back of his mind he knew that the director would return and a price would be paid.

Soltarian System, Planet Damar IV

Captain Archer, Malcolm, Hoshi and Trip stood in front of a small shop. Archer covered his eyes to protect them from the glare of the planet' two suns.

"T'Pol should have come. This place is as hot as Vulcan, she would feel right at home," Trip stated as he glanced around the city square. The streets were full of different types of species. All seemed to be selling or trading a multitude of items. The buildings were low with one or two stories. All were made from the same natural mud substance that probably hardened in the heat of the suns. Their windows and doors of the buildings were narrow. This obviously was needed in order to keep the interiors spaces cool. The streets as well as everything else seemed to be covered with a fine layer of reddish-brown sand. The entire setting reminded Trip of the western deserts back home. He suddenly felt sweat dripping down his back and began to wish that he hadn't come along. _I hate the desert_, he thought to himself as he wipe is forehead with the back of his hand.

Archer noticed a wooden sign over the shop's door. It was weather beaten and the words were written in some alien language that he didn't understand. The sign also had an engraving of a starship orbiting a blue planet.

As if reading his mind Hoshi translated, "It says Star Base Engineering, Sir."

"Sounds like my kind of place." Trip smiled as he stepped ahead of the captain and opened the door, eager to escape the heat. He stood aside, braced the door and let the others enter first.

"To bad we didn't set down on Andoria. Right, Trip?" The Captain stated as he slid by his senior officer. Trip only replied with a smirk and a roll of his eyes.

The shop was small and dim. A larger window next to the front door overlooked the main street. The side walls of the shop were covered floor to ceiling with shelving. On each self was a dizzying array of parts, each one different than the one next to it. The shop was cluttered but clean. Every item seemed to be tagged and cataloged. Someone obviously took great care in keeping their inventory straight.

The four newcomers moved towards the shop's counter, which was located near the back wall, opposite the front door. Archer took note of a narrow doorway, which was located behind and to the right of the counter. He tried to peer through the fabric that covered the doorway, _a back room, but where is everyone?_

"Hello?" Archer announced. He raised an eyebrow towards Hoshi. She just shrugged; not offering any language tips.

Trip took a scanner out of his jacket pocket, "I'm going to look around a little." He wondered around the shop, inspecting each piece of equipment. "This is great! They have more stuff here than I have in my entire shopstock on _Enterprise_. Maybe we can make some acquisitions. I brought a list."

Captain Archer turned to face Trip and tilted his head to the side. "We aren't here to go shopping," he said, knowing that Trip was already too absorbed in what he was seeing to have heard him.

"May I help you?" Archer turned back towards the counter and was surprised to see a very tall man standing there. Archer was forced to raise his head upward in order to see the man's face. Archer did not recognize the man's species. He looked somewhat reptilian but his skin was smooth and had a bluish tint to it. He wore long robes that covered his hands.

Archer glanced at Hoshi. He caught the recognition in her eyes. The man spoke perfect English. "Yes, my name is Captain Archer of the starship _Enterprise_. We are looking for a woman…a human, like us." Matix stood there quietly, not responding to the stranger. Archer knew that he was taking a big chance but given this man spoke English, he decided to ask about a human female.

Archer and the man, stood staring at each other, Archer thought, _Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe he doesn't understand English other than a few common phrases_.

"Captain, you need to take a look at this," Trip cut in, not noticing that the captain was in the middle of a conversation.

"What is it, Trip? I'm sort of busy right now," Archer replied over his shoulder, not breaking eye contact with the man behind the counter.

Trip moved up beside the captain and spoke directly into his ear, "Sorry, but you will want to see this."

Archer turned and followed Trip towards the front of the shop. Hoshi and Malcolm were close behind. "So what's the problem, Trip?" asked Archer who was visibly irritated by the interruption.

"This," said Trip as he pointed his scanner at a piece of equipment that was sitting on one of the shelves.

"Come on, Trip. What are you doing? I need to talk to this guy, not look at parts all day." Archer turned and was about to walk back to the counter.

"This one is different. It's a Starfleet component," Trip said, which caught Archer's attention. He turned back to see what Trip had found. "Well, some of it is anyway. It's been modified," added Trip.

"I'm confused, Trip. What are you trying to say? Are you saying this is from some kind of Starfleet vessel or not?" asked Archer who wanted to get to the point quickly.

Trip held his scanner so that his captain could see for himself. "I scanned the base section. Its molecular structure is consistent with Starfleet materials. I think it was some sort of phase pulse converter but it was repurposed into something else. See this top section? It's Klingon and the subassembly that's attached to the back is Vulcan. Don't ask me what this is but I am 100% sure that it started out as Starfleet component."

Malcolm suddenly understood what Trip was trying to say, "What is a piece from a Starfleet ship doing out here, practically near Romulan space? Maybe it came from one of the vessels that were destroyed during the attacks."

Hoshi looked at the captain, "Sir, this is a large trade port; maybe it was traded several times over and found its way here."

"Both of those ideas would make sense if I didn't find at least a dozen other Starfleet components sitting on these shelves. All of them have been modified. It looks more like a single ship was cannibalized and its components used to make spare parts," explained Trip.

"If a Starfleet ship was disassembled, then what happed to the crew?" Hoshi asked tentatively, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

"Maybe that's why the shop keeper over there isn't saying much," Malcolm said as they all turned to the direction of the counter and to the man who was still standing behind it.

"I don't know what's going on here but we need to find out. Trip, can you use the scanner and find out what ship these came from?" asked Archer.

"I'll try sir but I might have to send a sample up to T'Pol. She can run much more extensive tests than I can," replied Trip.

"Do what you can here. I'll talk to this guy and see if he will tell us anything. I don't want this to get too hot right now, we still have to find the woman and this is our only lead so far. Malcolm, come with me. Hoshi, stay with Trip and see if you can give him a hand." Archer and Malcolm walked back up to the counter.

"My friend found some interesting items on your shelves. Some seem to be compatible with our ship. Do you work strictly by trade or do you take currency?" Archer hoped to defuse the situation a little with the talk of money. Obviously, the shop keeper knew what parts they found so interesting. Archer didn't want him to become obstinate. Archer needed his help in determining where the parts came from and what happened to the crew of the ship. He also needed his help in finding the woman.

"We take a variety of currency but we also accept trade. What is it that you are looking for?" The shop keeper spoke in an extremely flat tone and without moving a single muscle in his body. Archer also noticed that his English was near perfect. Something wasn't adding up. How did a small outpost end up with a very large amount of Starfleet parts and how does this alien shopkeeper know English.

"Well, actually we have a list. Trip, come show the gentleman what you need," Archer called over his shoulder.

"Sir?" Trip walked up to the captain and gave him a non-understanding look.

Archer didn't take his eyes off the man's face. "Your shopping list Trip, show him the list of parts you need."

Trip took his hand-held out of his pocket and handed it to the shop keeper. The man extended his large arms, took the list and glanced at it. "I am sorry, I cannot help you," he said and quickly handed it back to Trip.

"What do you mean you can't help us?" Archer said. He was beginning to lose patience with this guy. "What about the woman, do you know where she is?"

"I do not understand, and I am afraid that I cannot help you. I know of no human female. Now if you do not mind, I have other work to do," the man insisted flatly and without expression on his face.

"Well, I think you're lying to me. You see, you speak almost perfect English. You must have had encounters with a human. You also have parts sitting over there from one of our ships. I want to know where they came from and you are going to tell me where the woman is." Archer was about to lose control of his temper and grab the man by his neck if he didn't answer his questions. Malcolm reached down and put his hand on his phase pistol. Hoshi took a step back towards the door and took out her communicator just in case she needed to make an emergency transmission to _Enterprise_.

Just then a figure stepped out from behind the curtain to the back room. Malcolm unholstered his weapon but kept it out of sight below the counter. The shop keeper took a small step back and turned slightly as if to allow the person to take his place.

"It's alright Matix. Give them whatever equipment they need. Take ten percent off the bill. I'm sorry, Captain but that's the best I can do. I still have a business to run," a woman said as she reached out and took the list from Trip who still stood next to the captain.

"I'm sure we can meet your requirements," the woman spoke directly to Trip then handed the list to the shop keeper who was standing beside her. Trip meanwhile, stood with his mouth open, his jaw almost touching the floor.

The woman turned to the captain, "Forgive us Captain. This is Matix, he will be able to assist you with whatever you need. As you can see, we have an extensive inventory. My name is Claire. I own this shop and I believe you are looking for me," she said and extended her hand towards Archer.

They shook hands. Malcolm holstered his weapon and Hoshi put her communicator back in her pocket. "Well, I guess you surprised us a little, Commander," said Archer as he glanced at the rest of his crew. "I'm Captain Archer and this is Lieutenant Reed and Lieutenant Sato."

"Hello, it's very nice to meet you. Please Captain, call me Claire. While I appreciate the promotion, I'm not comfortable being called Commander as you can imagine. It's been a while since I was assigned to Starfleet," said Claire with a slight smile.

Archer turned towards Trip and noticed that he had a strange look on his face. His eyebrows were clenched together and his mouth hung open. He seemed to have a look of confusion. Archer gave Trip an elbow to the ribs in order to get his attention. Trip shook his head and blinked for the first time in several seconds.

Archer began to make the introduction, "This is my Chief Engineer, Commander…"

"Tucker," Claire interjected. "How are you Trip? It's good to see you," said Claire but she did not reach out to shake his hand.

"Um…good…thanks," stammered Trip, his face feeling hot.

Archer looked at Claire and saw that her expression, which was friendly but professional had changed to that of recognition when speaking with Trip. Seeing Trip's reaction, Archer thought to himself, _Oh, you have got to be kidding me. He knows her. Damn it, Trip! Him and his relationships, it's all like a soap opera. _Archer was slightly dizzy remembering the last week and having to deal with Trip and his breakup with T'Pol. Archer was not in the mood to deal with another of Trip's past girlfriends. His mind flashed back to the time when Trip was impregnated by a female Xyrillian engineer. Then there was the time that both Reed and Trip were robbed by two aliens on Risa, who they mistook for female. Archer's head began to throb at the memory of finding Trip in a compromising position with an alien princess who he had rescued from kidnappers.

Claire noticed what she took for confusion of the captain's face. "Trip and I knew each other a long time ago, Captain," she said glancing at Trip, who lowered his head and rubbed his temples as if he suddenly had a migraine.

_Ofcourse, you know Trip. Apparently every female out in deep space knows him. This can't be happening_, thought Archer. He unconsciously rolled his eyes, shook his head and exhaled a large breath. Archer gave Trip a long stare as if trying to use telepathic powers on him.

Claire suddenly realized that something was going on between Trip and Captain Archer. She felt slightly embarrassed and also confused. It was as though they shared an inside joke and she was the punch line. _Maybe I should have handled this differently, but it's not like I could have ignored Trip or warned him. They were the ones who showed up early and didn't even bother to send a transmission. _Claire's anger began to rise. She moved to change the subject.

"Captain, I wasn't expecting you for another few days. I'm not quite ready to go," she said flatly. She walked around to the front of the counter and began to put some parts away on the shelves. She was determined now not to rush her plains just because they arrived ahead of schedule. _Maybe going with them is a mistake, _she thought to herself. Then she remembered the person who broke into her house.

Archer turned towards Trip, "I need to talk to you – outside, now." Walking towards the door, Archer said, "Malcolm, Hoshi, stay here." Hoshi and Malcolm looked at each other as if wishing they were somewhere else at that moment.

Trip followed the Captain outside. Once on the sidewalk, Archer spun on his heels to face Trip, "What the hell is this, Trip? You told me that you didn't know any agents out here."

"Sir, I don't…I mean…I do," Trip said completely frustrated. He took a step around Archer and scanned the people who were busily working around them. "You asked me if I knew any agents out here. Claire isn't working for the Section. At least she wasn't when I knew her. What are we doing here, Captain?" asked Trip as he turned to face Archer.

Looking at Trip's face, Archer could see the confusion. "Starfleet told us that a member of the Section was being re-assigned to _Enterprise_. Claire Dawson has been working as an agent for over a decade. Starfleet ordered us to attempt a rescue of another agent who is being held by the Romulans. The Section feels that Agent Dawson can help us," Archer explained.

"I'm sorry Sir but I just can't believe Claire has been working for the Section for all this time." Trip was trying to grasp what he had just been told. "We both met at the Academy. We were… close friends. After we graduated, I eventually went to work for Captain Jefferies on the warp-2 project. That's when I met you, Sir." Trip looked up at Archer with a slight smile but his eyes showed that he was still lost in thought.

"How close of friends were you? It couldn't have been too serious if this is the first time you've seen her in all these years." Archer was holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, these two weren't romantically involved and that this reunion of sorts would not jeopardize the mission. The last thing Archer needed was a love triangle between three members of his senior staff. He was ready to get the hell off this planet and leave Agent Dawson right where he found her.

"Claire and I were…well…_really_ close friends," answered Trip in a hushed voice as to not allow the people around him to hear. He doubted they understood anyway but he always prided himself on being a gentleman. He was not about to reveal too much detail regarding his relationship with Claire even to the Captain.

"Damn it, Trip!" Archer shouted. Several surprised pedestrians turned to stare at the two strangers. Lowing his voice, Archer continued, "Are you trying to hurt this mission? I swear, you and all your girlfriends give me a headache."

"Captain, you have to believe me. If I had known that Claire was the person we were picking up, I would have told you. We were just kids back then." Trip looked towards the sky for some sort of help then walked a couple paces away from the Captain. He felt like running away down the street but instead he turned around and tried to explain himself. "The last I knew, she was assigned to the initial design team for _Enterprise_. We sort of broke things off after graduation and lost touch with each other. We haven't spoken since and I had no idea she went to work for the Section." There was a silence between the two men. Trip waited anxiously for the Captain to say something, anything.

Archer thought for a few moments and then replied, "Trip, while I question what you mean by "sort of broke things off", I believe you when you say you haven't kept in contact with her." Trip opened his mouth to try to explain himself but Archer raised his hand to stop him. "Please Trip, I really don't want to know. I need you to determine if this is going to be a problem. I still have a mission to complete. I can't have the both of you fighting it out in the middle of engineering. I'll leave her here if I have to but I suspect that we are going to need her help with the Romulans."

Just as Trip was about to say something a horrendously loud shrill blew. It caused both Archer and Trip to jump slightly. Each man instinctively reached for his respective phase pistol as they scanned the crowd. Everyone seemed to increase their pace and quickly moved to take shelter. Archer and Trip did the same and ran back inside the shop.

Back inside, Archer could see that Hoshi and Malcolm were just as surprised by the defining sound. Malcolm hand one hand on his phase pistol as well.

"What the hell is that?" Trip shouted at Claire as he moved around the counter and stopped directly in front of her. Malcolm took up a security position to the side of the shop's large window. He began to scan the activity going on outside. Archer motioned for Hoshi to move closer towards the door in case they needed to make a quick exit.

Claire glanced over at Matix. They both let out a slight giggle but quickly composed themselves. Trip was not amused and shot Claire a look of anger. Ignoring Trip, Claire turned towards Archer, "It's alright Captain. There is nothing to worry about. That's just the city's weather warning system alerting us of an approaching storm."

"That must be one hell of a storm," Trip sarcastically added.

Claire then turned to address Trip. "They can be. This time of year would be considered winter on Earth. We get fierce sand storms that pop up unexpectedly. You don't have to be afraid, you'll be safe here," added Claire with a condescending smile as if she were consoling a child. Trip pursed his lips together and rolled his eyes but managed to hold his tongue. Claire smiled then walked around him in order to address the Captain. She realized that the storm might provide her with an opportunity to delay her departure or at the very least to get these people out of her shop. She was having second thoughts about leaving.

"Captain, I assume that you left your shuttle pod parked outside the city at the port. I would suggest that you retrieve it and return to orbit immediately. The sand here can cause severe damage to your shuttle's engine system and outer hull. I would offer you space in our hanger's bay but at the moment we are at maximum capacity."

The Captain glanced at Trip who shrugged his shoulders and gave a slight nod in agreement. "It's possible, Captain. A severe sand storm can be very destructive."

Archer looked back at Claire, "How long do these storms usually last?"

"Normally just a few hours, it should dissipate by morning," answered Claire.

"Fine, Trip will stay here and help you to finish making whatever arrangements you still need," Archer said as he turned to leave.

Claire felt the air escape her lungs. She managed to eagerly plead, "Captain, that really isn't necessary." Trip also spoke up. He had no intention of spending the night on this planet, "Sir, I really don't think…"

"I'm afraid I have to insist, Trip. We will be breaking orbit no later than 1200 hours. Make sure you're not late," Archer said over his shoulder.

"Sir!" Trip hurried after the Captain, not about to be left behind.

Archer stopped, put his arm around Trip's shoulder and spoke just a few inches from his ear. "Trip, here is your chance to figure out where you both stand. I need to know if working with her is going to be a problem for you. You have till tomorrow." Giving Trip's shoulder a hard squeeze in order to prove his point, Archer added. "Don't screw this up, Trip. I'm counting on you not to make this situation worse, if you know what I mean." With that, Archer, Reed and Hoshi walked towards the door.

Malcolm paused as the others left ahead of him, "Good luck, Trip. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Malcolm said and with that he smiled at his friend, glanced at Claire and left the shop.

The shop was dead quiet. Claire and Trip stood silently, looking at the door. Both completely shocked by what had just happened and at the circumstances for which they found themselves.

Matix walked up behind and asked, "Claire if you don't mind, I would like to start for home. I want to get there before the storm gets much worse. Travier doesn't like me to be out in this weather with the baby almost here. I'll stay though if you need me." Matix was torn between leaving his friend here with a stranger who he didn't trust and getting home to his pregnant wife.

"No, please go, you should be at home. I'll be fine," Claire replied as she gave Matix a hug. She let go of her dear friend and added, "You better go. It's starting to get bad out there."

Matix turned and stood directly in front of Trip. Trip slowly raised his eyes in order to meet the huge alien's stare. Matix towered over Trip. Without looking back at her Matix said in an obvious warning tone to Trip, "Good night Claire. Be careful."

Within a few seconds, Matix was out the door. He disappeared into the now swirling sand outside.

"That is one big fella," Trip noted.

Claire rolled her eyes at him and walked over to retrieve her cloak, which was hanging by the front door. "Here put this on," she said as she threw an extra one at Trip, hitting him in the face.

"Why, where are we going?" asked Trip as he struggled to put on the long, heavy tarp-like cape.

"We might as well head home. The shop is closed. There won't be any customers out in this," replied Claire as she fastened the buttons on her own cloak.

Trip felt his face flush, "That probably isn't the best idea. Umm…why don't you just show me where the nearest hotel is?"

"Trip, this isn't a vacation spot. People here are traders, they come to do business not spend the night and take tours of our scenic locations. There aren't any hotels. You can stay with me," Claire explained as she headed towards the door.

"Then I'll call the shuttle pod and have them turn around to pick me up," stated Trip as he fumbled for his communicator. After finally opening it, he spoke, "Tucker to Shuttle Pod One." There was no reply. He tried again, "Tucker to Shuttle Pod One." Still no reply. "Tucker to Enterprise," he tried but again there was no reply. He closed his communicator and put it back in his pocket.

Seeing Trip resign himself to the fact that he was stuck, Claire explained, "The storm causes too much interference. Even if they could hear you, they wouldn't be able to turn around and land. The port will be closed due to high wind gusts and zero visibility."

"That's pretty convenient isn't it?" Trip was beginning to think this entire thing had been planned. He was starting to feel as though he had been set up.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Claire asked. She then suddenly realized. "You think I planned this don't you?"

"The thought crossed my mind," Trip answered.

"Are you serious? Do you think that I magically whipped up a sand storm so that I could be alone with you? I see you are still as arrogant as ever," Claire replied trying to keep her anger in check.

"I'm just saying that this all seems convenient. No hotels, so you invite me to stay at your place," Trip noted as he finally managed to put on his cloak.

"I have a guest room, Trip. You can stay there," Claire offered begrudgingly. "I promise as hard as it will be, I will try to keep my hands to myself and not take advantage of the situation. Unless of course you would rather stay here, there's a cot in the back room. You are more than welcome to use it."

Trip thought about his options. The wind and sand pelted the corrugated metal roofing overhead. Trip finally relented and followed Claire out into the blowing storm.

_USS Enterprise_

"Enterprise to Shuttle Pod One," haled T'Pol.

"Archer, go ahead," the Captain replied.

"We just received a single transmission from the surface. It sounded like Commander Tucker but there was too much interference and we were unable make contact with him," T'Pol explained.

"The storm is too intense. There is no way we can turn around. I'm sure he's fine."

"Sir, we also just received a message from Starfleet. The Section's contact inside the prison has relayed that the prisoner is in very serious condition and needs to be evacuated as quickly as possible."

"Damn it! Tell them we understand and will do what we can. Archer, out!"

Archer turned in his chair, "Malcolm, the minute this storm passes go back down to the surface and collect Trip and Commander Dawson. We need them on Enterprise first thing."

"Understood, Sir," Malcolm acknowledged.


End file.
